Monster of Men––Fearless Stranger
by Stars Walk Backward
Summary: "Why couldn't I have met you at that club last night, Dr Bolton?" For a moment he let himself imagine walking into a pub or a bar & meeting this beautiful girl-not in the hospital gown, but in a pretty dress with a bright smile. Sweet, intelligent..still innocent. Yes, Lord–why? What had she done for such Monsters of Men to touch her, uninvited? He sighed. "I just don't know."
1. Chapter 1

A:N/ Heeeeeeeey,

Alright so, basically, this may appear random, but I just got random inspiration a week or so ago for this oneshot, and so I thought I'd post it. Their will be an epilogue, but I just wanted to see the response on this before I post it :)

And yes, I am working on TWNC- promise. (I find it so scary that only a few chapters ago I was starting sixth form, and now I'm in upper sixth and only a few more chapters in... hahaha.)

Any questions/feedback, message me here or on my blog- .com :D

The inspiration from this story came from many places, such as the prose from one of my favourite writings blogs, Writings for Winter, who seems to write so much that relates SO much to my life. She's amazing. Check her out and buy her book on Amazon :)

PEACE & LOVE,  
x x STARSWalkBACKWARD x x

fyi- I'm not 100% sure on the name of this tory, it may change over the next 24 hours, but it may now. :) Just a warning.

* * *

**_for twenty-year-olds who have never been loved_**

_All of a sudden two decades have passed and you still have not kissed anyone with tongue, or kissed anyone at all for that matter, or had a 3 AM conversation with someone who would rather look into your eyes for ten minutes straight than talk. You have never worn a lover's sweater or "forgotten" it at home in your bedroom just so you would have an excuse to see them again. You have never even stood face-to-face with someone who makes your hands shake so hard it feels like they're both having a separate anxiety attack._

_This causes you much guilt and self-blame and sadness but above all, an overwhelming curiosity. Are you really that ugly, that unwanted, that uninteresting, that boring, that no one, absolutely no one, has ever looked at you like the only thing on earth?_

_The answer is no. The better answer is that someone out there, somewhere in the world, is "wondering what it's like to meet someone like you," and they have two decades worth of love stored in their veins like a shoot-'em-up drug, and they're just about ready to inject it into someone else's bloodstream. All you have to do is roll up your sleeves and wait for it to happen._

_At times you felt so lonely you could stand at the edge of a cliff with nothing beneath you but air and grass and a long, long way down, and you'd still feel emptier than that canyon itself. Maybe you even danced with yourself alone in your room a few times, arms outstretched around a ghost, pretending someone else's hands were on your waist, someone else's eyes boring into yours._

_Or maybe you fell temporarily in love with strangers on public transportation, fell in love with anybody who so much as accidentally brushed your hand on the way past. For you, falling in love with dozens of people a day was a coping mechanism for not having anyone to love you in return. But people are not eggs and falling in love with a dozen of them does not mean your shell will remain uncracked. One day you're going to hit the point where you're so desperate for human contact that you're going to snap in half and all your love will bleed out like egg yolk._

_But someone out there is eating a bowl of Ramen noodles right now, or putting on slippers, or settling into bed. They are doing all the normal things that you've done in your own life. They are just like you. They have cellulite and extra fat in all the wrong places and goals and fears and doubts and bad handwriting._

_The truth is that they are just like you, and being just like you, they're looking for a lover too. They're what you might call a soulmate._

_They think they're all alone in feeling the way they do, but you're really both two halves of a whole._

_And one day you'll meet them, bump into them on the street, and your two halves will be put together, and you'll make one._

––WRITINGS FOR WINTER, "for twenty year olds who have never been love."

* * *

Monster of Men

* * *

Everything wasn't quite in focus anymore.

It hadn't been for a long time.

Another step. _Ouch! _It hurt to walk. Everything hurt. Every ligament, joint, hair and fibre...

**_...my tongue got stuck to the icicle  
__when i licked it;..._**

But she had caused this.

Always in a rush to give her life away...

and she really did this time.

A white, glass building. Great and clean.

A hospital.

Hospital. How much further? She was so tired. So tired.

_Help, someone! Anyone! _

She would have screamed if it would have made a difference, only now there was no rewinding the tape, no turning back. She had lost all voice. Lost everything.

She tracked her feet on the ground, feeling no pressure on the soles of her feet, where shoes had once been.

What was this world? It was so dark, and so, _so _cold...

Tears with no taste as her lips were salted enough, still with the taste of... She wanted to reverse her stomach and let it all out, but everything was just at the tunnels edge...

Less focus. Lights, headlights, more headlights. Taillights. Blurring, turning to blotches across the night..._ Ouch_, it hurt to move. It hurt so much.

_Help. Someone, please, help..._

Stumbling. Tarmac under grazed palms. Pain, and blood. _More blood... _

How long...

Blink through the lashes that cling to the tears––Oh!

_There_! Lights. White, glass buildings. Sirens. _Shrieking sirens. _Panicked voices. Crunching fabric to take the stains of every walk of like... White coats...Rushing bodies.

Hands, sets of ten fingers and thumbs, reaching out, and they reach her, clasping at everywhere with nothing but tenderness...An arm, a hand...

Skin to skin.

_No! Stop! _

**_ ...and when I  
__touched the candle flame  
__my fingers came away red and blistered..._**

_ It burns. _The fog of his scent, _His_ violating palms, spreading their poison... Not just memories...but reliving everything. They were rough and clawing, not like intimate hands performing intimate acts are supposed to be. Not like novels on late school nights. Not like the movies on Sunday afternoons...

**_This could be a poem about  
__savage beauty and the danger  
__inherent in nature._**

Not like it was ever supposed to be every time she had wished it here, every time she wished her time away.

How could an angel with..._such_ a smile have such poison in his skin, in his heart. How had he hidden those talons from view?

**_ instead it's about people,  
__and how they're always,  
__touching the things that  
__they shouldn't._**

They were not him, yet every touch was plagued, and may has well have been.

**_ (that girl on the news never invited  
__that man to touch her._**

Before, every touch she received from a male had been plagued with the idea of 'what if' is he ended up being The One to finally want her, emotionally or physically...but now...this was the painful reverse. Now, her childish what-ifs were screaming back at her. _Foolish, stupid, _stupid _girl._ She should have lived a little longer in the innocence she knew, instead of rushing to get rid of it. Just for one night longer...

**_ all I can think about is how  
__I wish she had had something savage  
__coursing through her skin._**

_Please. Please stop touching me. _

Screaming. Wailing, filling her ears. Her own voice, though there is no recognition clicking in the clockwork of her mind now.

They reach for her, to take her inside, to take the pain away, but they may never do so... How do you take pain from someone who knows nothing but pain?

She couldn't even catch the faces of those who took her in from the cold on passing by.

All the healers in this one white and glass building, and she would have betted with anyone that none could mend her, an innocent torn in two by the monster disguised as the kind, smiling good samaritan at the bar... Who had shredded all belief in human kind with his one single pair of hands.

What had she done wrong to deserve this?

She stared at the walls of her life, torn from the foundations, the images stained there, as all surroundings began to fade, leaving nothing left as she sent one last silent prayer with no words.

**_God should have made women lethal, when he made monsters of men.)_**

❝~x~❞

Troy Bolton rubbed his dark brows and temples with strong, subtle fingers, feeling weary. The night shift felt longer than usual, even though it was the same length as always. The night in London, England was a cold and grey November one, the British summer clearly long gone as people began filtering into Accident and Emergency more and more as a result of simply falling over deathly slippery icy sidewalks, or 'pavements,' as they called them here. He always found such Britishisms endearing, though they also made him feel a little inferior, as his own American slang and wording often left him feeling unaccomplished and much less classy in comparison, though they did not seem to agree. Many of his English female colleagues had commented plenty a time on how charming and 'lovely' they found his accent to be, though, the closest of his friends here, 'posh,' Simon, also a junior doctor like he, and 'East-ender' male nurse, Flech, like to do nothing but remind him that most of these comments came from the nurses, who all simply 'wanted a shag' from him. When he finally found out what this meant, he had laughed for a week, because despite how flattering it may be that most of his female colleagues wanted sexual interactions with him, he, for some reason, hadn't seen anything that would lead him to 'fancy,' as the English put it, any one of them. They were all great people and amazing friends to have, but... No. He couldn't ever.

"Troy, mate, you're needed in RE-SUS," Flech called as he stuck his head through the staff locker room door. Troy turned from his locker, shutting it quickly, rubbing a hand down his green paper-fabric scrubs. "What about Dr Hanna? Isn't she in RE-SUS? She said she wanted me in cubicles," he questioned quickly, filling his shaggy dark-haired friend out the door and through the busy hospital A&E reception.

"I dunno', but the patient is in pretty bad shape, an' Dr Hanna asked for ya' to assist 'er."

This intrigued him. Over the entire process, Troy had been asked by Dr Hanna, one of the senior doctors who had also been mentoring him, to shadow her with her patients, while also treating his own, though each had been different and of slightly higher caliber every time, which he had guessed were tests set by Dr Hanna to test him abilities. He had helped patients through domestic disputes, drug overdoses, far too many RTCs, and even the odd circus performer accident, however, something felt different this time. _How intriguing. _

"Dr Bolton," Dr Hanna greeted, looking her usual calm and collected self with her sharp ebony bob cut, black rectangular glasses and deeply tanned skin. She wore business attire with a stethoscope around her neck. She was the 'glamour-puss' of the department, because she was also clinical lead. "We have a young female. Age estimated at around eighteen to nineteen. We don't have a name yet. Suspected sexual assault. Blunt-force trauma to her scalp, possibly a hairline fracture, and a possible fractured right wrist. So, we give her an IV line, and..." She trailed, prompting him to finish, though this was the most basic of questions. He frowned, confused as to why she would ask something so simple of him––he _had_ been on rotation in England almost a year, and graduated in the US before that as one of the highest degrees in the whole class! What was going on?

"Ten units of saline, and a ten of morphine."

Dr Hanna nodded in approval, though her eyes seemed distracted on something else as they walked through the heavy glass double doors hurriedly. Troy barely noticed the way the blinds were closed on the inside, or the "Resuscitation Unit, please keep clear," plastered across it, anymore. It was easy to forget how many lives were saved and how many were lost in this room when you worked her every day; so easy to forget that it was never just a job.

He had seen some real horrors in this room, but none would quite prepared him for the experience about to fast him on that cold, November night.

Troy swallowed as the doors shut behind him, greeted by the sight of the new patient: a small, young girl with dark ebony curls matted against her head. She was struggling against the medics' hands, begging in a strangled voice.

The words 'sexual assault,' rang in his ears like a threat of death. This was something he had managed to avoid up until now since joining the hospital almost a year ago on his junior medic rotation, as he had always just happened to have been treating a different patient when one of this type came in.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked softly, noting how there was already two nurses surrounding her.

"I need you to practice some of your miracle Bolton bedside manner," she smiled in good humour. "But not yet. First, we need to calm her enough to give her an examination." Dr Hanna instructed sharply, and Troy noted how the girl's hysteria was only climbing higher. "Word of warning: she has refused all care from male staff. I had to send Dr Ashford away."

"What?" Troy halted quickly, frowning. "Then why on _earth_ did you ask for me?"

"I believe they don't call it the _miracle _Bolton bedside manner for nothing," she returned, calmly.

"_No!_ Please! No skin! _No skin!_ No, _no_. Please don't touch me... _Burning_––_No_—" The girls cries broke through their conversation from where she lay in the corner of RE-SUS, and they were nothing Troy had ever heard from a human before. Her cries became garbled sobs in which the words were almost unrecognisable as she quaked from head to toe. He noted her wincing in agony still, and quickly clocked the blood that stained the inside of her thighs. At the sight of it he swallowed involuntarily, feeling his stomach roll. After all the things he had come across, it was this, he knew already, that would haunt him late at night while the world slept. No wonder she didn't want men around her. The evidence of sexual assault was everywhere. Ripped clothing, matted hair, seemingly unexplained injuries, cuts and scrapes, terrified, puffy eyes and face...bloody thighs.

He watched her struggle away from the hands that rushed to hold her down, and suddenly her words began to process and he practically heard his brain click the logic of the situation into place.

"_Wait_—" he called to the nurses who hadn't even had time to pull of rubber gloves due to the girls violent protesting. "It's your skin. She doesn't want to be touched. Just—put your rubber gloves on," he instructed gently, pulling on his own, nearing her as he came to stand by Dr Hanna, who gave him an impressed nod as the girl began to struggle much less once the skin to skin contact had gone, her eyes meeting his and for a moment he could have swore she quaked violently at the sight of him and the sound of his voice. The volume of his voice must have terrified her.

_"No," _she whimpered, shrinking into herself, and he knew instantly as she stared at him with horrified eyes that slammed shut a moment later, that the sight of him, a male, may have to cause flashbacks of what had happened to her. He grimaced a little, just before Dr Hanna spoke.

"I can tell you didn't want men around you," she began, and this surprised the girl, who looked as her as if to say, _How did you know? _"but I really need another pair of hands here, and Dr Bolton has a miracle bedside manner. You could trust us––you can trust _him_."

"_N-no,_" the girl stammered, and Troy knew what she must be thinking. _How can you _possibly _expect me to trust _anyone_ now? I trusted a man tonight who ruined me. Trust. There is no such word._

"Dr Bolton here is the best there is––from either side of the Atlantic."

The girl looked his way with wide eyes as she swallowed. He smiled gently at her, praying he wasn't going to cause her to scream and cry again. Only, something else happened. As the nurses had now let her be and put on their gloves as he had instructed, the girl looked around, letting her gaze halt on him, and she began to watch him in silence, with a look he could have sworn resembled..._gratitude_, as he had made the touching stop. He sighed silently with inward relief.

As Dr Hanna began receiving stats to the nurses, Troy came near enough really get a look at the girl. It was then he realised she not was a _girl_, but a young women. A Latina, he guessed, perhaps a Pilipino. She was slight and tiny in build, and her skin was a pretty olive colour, even with her pale, sickly complexion.

Her eyes met his as she stared at the ceiling, and he felt the familiar sense of deep, gutting sympathy in his chest, the very same quality that caused him to lean toward a medical profession in the first place. Her eyes were filled with tears, and under them was evidence of many, many hours of tears that had already been shed. They were red, swollen and sore, but not enough to disguise the pain and terror behind the chocolate irises. God only knew what those eyes had seen, what that body had felt, and while still so young. He feared something very awful had happened to this girl tonight.

His medical training kicked in as he received a nod from Dr Hanna to take the lead at the patients bedside.

"Hello there," he greeted, leaning over to speak quietly and gently to the patient, giving his trademark gaze with his blue eyes that said, _'I have all the time of day for you. Talk to me. You can trust me.' _"My name's Dr Troy Bolton. You're in London May-view Hospital. Someone picked you up down the street and brought you here." He watched the girl blink and say nothing else. She was not surprised about this fact. So, she wasn't completely disorientated. Interesting. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Not answering, she flinched with every touch from each of the staff, though less violently now the gloves were on, so he offered her a very small, warm smile and decided quickly to change his approach. _Slowly does it_. "These people are all here to help you, but in order to do that, we need to know your name. Can you tell me your name?"

He made sure to put across his softest, gentlest voice he could manage, one that only she would be able to hear, in the hope that she felt more at home. He was also hoping his accent would act in his favour. It seemed to, because her eyes never left him once he spoke to her, though she stared at his scrub-clad chest, never once looking into his eyes. Though her eyes had been filled with panicked before, they now seemed marginally subdued.

_Good_. He thought. _Progress_.

"G-g-g—" she tried to speak suddenly, but her body seemed to quake so awfully that it hindered her speak, which Troy had to strain to hear. "Gabriell-l-la.. M-Montez-z."

"Nice to meet you, Gabriella. Now, can you follow my finger with your eyes?" She did so, and he watched the movement of her pupils. "Any headaches, nausea?"

"A little."

Troy smiled again, nodding as he raised his hands in preparation to inspect her head wound. "It looks as though you may have got a nasty bash on the head. Mind if I take a look?"

She blinked with a nudge of the head in agreement, letting him lean over her face and touch the gash, now covered in padding. Blood was wet but also crusted in her hair as he gently moved it away with one finger. He inspected it for dirt, or any other debris from a struggle, she winced as he tried his best not to hurt her. When happy there was nothing else to clear out, he covered it again, her eyes trained on his sternum every second. Then moving to her right wrist, at her side in a padded brace, he touched it with extra caution. She winced and groaned out loud, and he softly cooed her, apologising quickly. "Yeah. Looks like we have a fracture here," he told Dr Hanna, who nodded in agreement. Next came the difficult part, the sumo-elephant in the room, and all staff in the room knew this.

"Gabriella, there appears to be some bleeding coming from a personal area," Dr Hanna prompted, speaking softer than Troy had ever heard her as she stepped to Gabriella's other side. "Do you know what may have caused it?"

Troy watched, feeling ill at the thoughts racing through his head, all possible scenarios appearing behind his eyes before he could lock them away. Gabriella closed her eyes and he watched with sudden shortness of breath as she said nothing as heavy, slow tears slid from her closed eyes, down her temples and into her hair, her breathing becoming ragged with soft sobs.

"If you were...attacked, we have people you can talk to," Dr Hanna informed softly, from the broken brunette's bedside, "If you need––"

"I don't want to. I don't want to talk about it." Her tone was sharp and definite, so unlike her previous tone that it shocked Troy for a moment. Her voice was hard as a flint. _Well no wonder, _Troy justified to himself. _It was probably the most traumatic, horrific day of her life, for gods sake._

"It will help––" Dr Hanna defended again.

"––How can it?" Gabriella whimpered, almost wailed in a voice that remained hard to hear, and Troy watched his colleague sigh sadly. "How can anything help me now?"

Dr Hanna nodded in acceptance that this patient, for now, would most likely be too closed off to discuss what had happened to her. "Just...know it's there. If you won't let anyone examine you yet... I'll just ask one or two questions. Does it..._hurt_?"

Troy stepped away, conscious that Gabriella may not wish for him to hear her reply.

Gabriella hesitated, then gave the smallest of nods.

"Scale of one to ten?" he heard his colleague murmur.

Gabriella hesitated again, and after a moment, Troy realised his hands were in angry, white-knuckle fists. _Get it together, Bolton!_

"Nine, I guess," Gabriella whimpered, her voice cracking as more tears fell, and Troy ground his teeth as he felt a sudden urge to get very, very out of control and track down the bastard who did this.

"Okay well... When you're ready, you tell me and then we can arrange an examination. In the mean time, I have ordered you an MRI to check that you haven't done any serious damage to your head, and an ex-ray for that wrist, which seems to be broken. After that, I'll send someone in to..." Dr Hanna paused, giving Troy a poignant look that said _'perhaps you could persuade her,_' "_patch up these cuts_, okay? And I'll get you some more morphine..."

Gabriella looked at the ceiling fearfully and showed acknowledgement with the slightest twitch of the head. Soon after, as she was rolled away by the nurses out of RE-SUS and into the main corridor, Troy watched her begin to hyperventilate, which he could have predicted, even from behind her oxygen mask.

"No, no... No, please... I don't want to..." Came her muffled cries, and Troy quickly jogged to catch up before he could stop himself.

"Hey ladies," he called to the nurses, giving them a soft smile. "Just wait a minute." He leant his elbow on the railing if the bed to lower his face to Miss Montez's level, glancing at his watch, noting his shift was almost over. He only had minutes left.

"Hey, _hey_," he cooed softly to silence her soft whimpers. "It's okay. It's _o-kay_." She sniffed loudly and looked down at his hands on the rail with a broken expression that screamed, _'please just get me out of here.' _"I know you're afraid, but no one will hurt you here. You need these scans, otherwise you could end up really ill and hurting more..."

Gabriella rolled her head away from him, closing her eyes, pained. "I'm already hurting the most I ever could. I'm never going to be okay again..." Her breath jolts due to her body still quaking. "Everything hurts... and I'm so scared."

Troy frowned with such sympathy her feared his heart was going to burst from his chest. _The poor, poor girl. _

His hands were now bare, as he had thrown he dirty gloves in the trash, as required, so he gently touch her shoulder from over her the clothing she wore, and her eyes instantly met his own for the first time, but in surprise rather than fear.

"Can't I stay with you, Dr Bolton?" She asked softly, sounding like a lost little girl, and it almost broke him. She was perhaps five or six years his junior, and yet she looked so much younger, so lost, and all because one man chose to make her this way. He couldn't think about that. It would make his blood boil.

Troy gave her a broken smile as sudden emotion threatened to overtake him. He swallowed it and nodded. She had such pretty eyes, but the hurt in them was strongly palpable. "My shift is over. I'll come with you for the scans, how about that?"

Gabriella seemed to let out a breath, and her lip twitched in gratitude. "Yes. Yes please," she said, her voice barely audible again.

Troy swallowed as he walked at Gabriella's side to the elevator—no, the English called them _lifts_.

He knew now he was going to have to stay with this girl and see this through. _God damn it Bolton. Always caring too much. _What the hell was this he had gotten himself into?

**❝~x~❞**

Gabriella swallowed as a MRI machine the size of a car began to move, taking her further inside the mechanisms to be scanned. It was a tight space, the roof of the tunnel not twenty centimetres from her face. She felt her breathing increase involuntarily, a plea escaping from her lips as images began to blip around her eyes...

_He was so close, too close. No. She didn't want this. 'Stop!' she protested, panic filling every vessel and every vein. 'You're suffocating me! Stop! Let go of me!' He wasn't listening...He had ripped off her fancy knickers, the only pair she had owned, and stuffed into into her mouth. She tasted the salt of her sweat on the lace as she tried desperately to breath enough air to scream, but with every one her stomach was threatening to reverse...The air around her in dark of the back room was too stuffy and hot, as he began pushing his hand down, down and into his underpants, pulling himself free and impaling her all in one movement. Agony stabbed her deep inside a place no one had ever been like a hot iron poker and radiated every possible nerve from her scalp to her toes. She would have screamed, but the pain robbed her of breath in her lungs as she began to choke on her own token pair of fancy knickers, as though they were mocking her. _You put us on in desperation that you might finally getting a shag, well, now you've got one. Enjoying yourself yet? '_You dirty tease.' His voice was like a haunting chorus in her now torn apart soul. "Can you feel me inside you? I could tell this is what you wanted all along, you dirty, fucking bitch. You asked for this, and now you're gonna get it––'_

"Doctor Bolton!" she gasped, her voice bouncing straight back to her off the roof of the machine as she wrenched herself from the vivid re-encounter episode. "_Please_... I can't...I _can't..._It's _Him_––"

A sharp, unknown female voice came on over the monitor. "Miss Montez, you must keep still, or––"

"––_It's alright, Gabriella,_" Doctor Bolton's American vernacular interrupted over the intercom, his tone calming and soft, creating a stark contrast between the he and the other medic in the monitor booth. _"It's okay. Just breathe. He's not here, he can't hurt you. You're safe... Talk to me. What are you?"_

Gabriella blinked away her tears and sniffed, stilling as she focused on the soft timbre of his voice. "Safe."

_"Good girl,"_ he encouraged, accompanied with the slight repeat crackle of the intercom microphone._ "Do you need to come out for a minute?" _Gabriella heard a slight faint protest before Troy spoke again, seeming to ignore it._ "Gabriella?"_

"Yes, please," she wheezed out, needing to be with him for a minute or two in order to remind herself _Troy _was here, and he would care for her, keep her safe. Safe. _He _wasn't here. _He _couldn't do anything to her here.

"It's alright. You're out, you're out," Troy called softly as he made his way into the room, just as Gabriella was fully ejected from the machine. It was only then that she realised she was still wheezing, tears falling unchecked from her eyes. He raised a hand to help her sit up, her haphephobia, and more specifically, androphobia, meaning he had already made the precaution of pulling on a clean pair of latex gloves. As a result, she only flinched a little at his touch. She stared at her lap, trying to breathe, and her tears were heavy, creating tracks slowly down her already stained and puffy cheeks.

"What is it? What did you see?" he murmured in his quietest voice. She simply shook her head hurriedly, crunching up her entire face, trying to push the memories back.

"I just can't think..._Can't_..." she struggled to form a full sentence. They sat in quiet for a moment or to, the only sound being Gabriella's loud breathing, when suddenly an idea struck him.

"What's your favourite colour, Gabriella?" he questioned, leaning not too far from her, against the machine.

"It...changes..." she replied breathlessly, though not as much as before.

"Well," he continued, and she began to marvel at his ability to sound so genuinely interested. "What is it today?"

She paused knowing her answer instantly, though contemplating lying, but considering how she could have her lost her life earlier that night, it didn't seem worth it. _Perspective _and all that. "The color...of...your eyes," she replied softly, feeling a her breath returning to her. If she hadn't been feeling so out of control, she would most definitely have blushed. "They match...your scrubs."

Troy looked down the cobalt scrubs she spoke of, grasping them in one hand at the chest. "They do?"

Gabriella had an inkling he knew this. It was all just technique to distract her from––_No. She couldn't even think it. ..._to distract her.

She nodded, and he appeared thoughtful. "Do you slightly feel better now? Enough to get back on?"

Gabriella pursed her lips, nodding. "I'm so sorry," she apologised quickly, wiping her eyes and nose with the back of her hand. "I'm being a nuisance."

Troy bit back a scoff, instead frowning as little before shaking his head with a kind smile at her ridiculous comment. "No, you're not. You're just afraid, and perfectly rightly too."

Gabriella swallowed, not replying as she shuffled back into a lying down position on the tray of the MRI.

_ "Good to go, Miss Montez?"_ the women's voice asked over the intercom once Troy has gone back to the booth as the tray moved her into place again.

Her breath was shaky, and for a moment she couldn't reply. "Y-yes."

_"Doing okay in there?"_ came Doctor Bolton's voice again, and a moment later, just as her breathing increased again, a tell for another flashback, he began to question what exact that colour that was.

"I...don't know," she muttered, concentrating on the roof of the tunnel, trying not to move.

_ "Well... What colour are my eyes, exactly? I don't exactly know..."_

"You just said exactly twice."

"Did I?"

She rolled her eyes, still breathless. "You don't know...your own _eye colour_?"

_"Can't say that I do, no."_

She knew what he was doing, but she humoured him, as it _was_ helping. "Well... I suppose they're...cobalt..."

She closed her eyes and swallowed. _You are safe. Safe. Do not panic. _

_ "Gabriella?"_

"And...I g-guess..._azure."_

_ "Azure, huh? What else?"_

"S-sapphire, maybe? With...slight..._cyan_...and..._cerulean_?"

"Wow. That's a lot of blues to know... I'm curious though as to how exactly you know this without eye contact."

She gave the smallest of smiles in amusement. He really had no idea how un-avoidable those peepers were. "It only takes one look, Troy. They're pretty...n-noticeable."

She swallowed, closing her eyes. _Stop it, Gabriella, _the devil on her shoulder scolded her. _Stop it. Men can't be trusted. _He, _that man, that _monster_,_ _broke you tonight, you stupid girl, and yet you're still at it, chasing men who want nothing from you. Men never want anything but one thing, thousands have told you this for years... Huh. Until tonight, they had never even wanted _that _from you, anyway... You really don't get it, do you? Idiot girl. They don't _want _you, so stop throwing yourself into them desperately like you're deserving... You're desperate and damaged, and that is all. You deserved what happened..._

She whimpered once as the machine came to a stop and the tray moved out again.

_Because why else would it have happened at all? _

"Hey," Troy called softly as he walked to her side. "It's okay. It's done now. Are you alright?"

They both knew she wasn't alright, and this soon came out in the open when Gabriella was asked to change into a hospital gown. She had been allowed to be scanned in her dress, as it hadn't contained any metal that may interfere with the picture produced by the scan. However, her whole body began to coil with fear and tension at the idea of taking off her clothes and becoming bare in a place that she didn't know. Not after... Not after.

"I c-can't, Doctor Bolton," she whispered in panic as the nurse went to fetch her a gown once they had returned to a private hospital exam room, after having her arm casted and put in a sling, and the gash on her head stitched.

"You can call me Troy," he persuades softly from the chair beside her bed. "I'm not your doctor now...technically."

"T-troy... I know I can't change on my own...but people touching me...I-I...can't..." she shook her head in quick dismissal, shuddering in fear of the pain and of remembering the events she had been trying so hard to repress.

Troy swallowed, putting his metaphorical doctors cap on firmly for a moment. "Did you suffer from this haphephobia...before what happened?"

Gabriella closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly.

"Okay, well... Why don't you just make sure whoever helps you with your gown is wearing gloves?"

Gabriella swallowed hard but didn't speak. Troy sighed, pulling his chair closer.

"I know you're afraid to undress," Troy whispered by her side, hoping that being as honest as possible may help her to feel more comfortable. "That's perfectly normal after...what happened...but I also know that you...won't want to be in those clothes much longer... They'll remind you of every moment..."

Gabriella's eyes were clamped shut as tight as possible, but he saw a tear escape with her faintest of nods.

"Okay," she sighed, her voice broken with unshed tears. "I'll change but...only if you'll help me."

Troy gave her a tiny, broken smile as emotion threatened to hit him again. He let out a sigh. "Of _course_." He felt the urge to pull her hand to his. "Of course I'll help you, but only if you're sure..."

"I-I'm sure."

"Though, I may need a second pair of hands... Could I ask my friend Linda to help, the nurse who was treating you before?"

Gabriella's eyes were wider than before, panic hitting at the thought of a stranger helping her undress. Though, the fact the nurse was female seemed to have calmed her, as she nodded gently, her eyes trained on her knotted hands in her lap.

"Alright, I'll get her. It'll be okay."

Troy returned a minute later with a blonde nurse called Linda, who had a nice smile and a Northern accent that Gabriella found comforting. As they closed the door of the exam room, Gabriella felt her chest tighten.

"_Breathe_," Troy reminded, letting Linda begin to help her take off her ripped, ruined party dress. Troy assisted, keeping an eye on her face and breathing while they stripped her bare from behind the blue curtains. As Gabriella was turned a little, Troy bit his tongue to reframe from grimacing at the sight of the bruising, scrapes and...red, purple and blue angry finger and hand marks that littered her skin. He frowned, grinding his teeth. What animal could do this, and to such a poor, sweet girl? A chill ran down his spine at the realisation that her underwear was missing from her party outfit, and her thighs were clad with bruising. It made his stomach turn. _Definitely rape._

He trained his gaze on her shoulders and face, giving her a smile whenever her eyes met his. "That's it," he whispered in encouragement. "Almost there." She shivered as they tied the hospital gown around her, then covering her in white sheets and a blue blanket.

"Thank you," she whispered with gratitude towards the both of them.

The blonde nurse, Linda, smiled at her. "You're welcome. You're lucky to have this one," she joked, nudging toward Troy. "He's a tall order around here."

Gabriella's lips nudged in the smallest of smiles toward Linda. "I can imagine."

As Linda left to bag her clothes, Gabriella was shivering, most likely with anxiety more than the cold.

"Cold?" Troy questioned as he rubbed her eye, sitting back down next to her.

She shook her head and curled down into the sheets, not taking her eyes off him. Troy took a deep breath.

"What happened to you, Gabriella?" he whispered, leaning as close as he dare with a soft expression.

Gabriella shook her head vigorously, her eyes closed. "I... I _can't_..."

Troy watched her with eyes filled with sympathy. "I know...but you have to. Not necessarily now, but you have to tell, otherwise, it'll eat you alive." He held his own hands next to her leg that was under the sheets, feeling the strange urge to touch her again. "Or worse, he won't get caught and then he'll do this to someone else."

"I don't want that," she whimpered.

"I know you don't... Gabriella, you're safe with me. You can tell me... You don't have to tell the authorities yet, but they'll want to talk to you so they can catch him."

"What will they want?"

"An account most likely, and some samples from..." he paused, swallowing his discomfort at the words he was about to say, "...from under your nails and from inside you. They'll then trace any DNA they find to catch him."

She swallowed, her eyes trained on her lap, silently.

"It will awaken the demons...but once they've been let out you'll feel so much better... _Trust me."_

For a moment, Troy thought he had gotten no where, however Gabriella suddenly spoke, and when she did, she didn't stop. With a tiny, shaky voice she told him of how she was a undergrad student at Kings College London, studying Law, and she had gone to a party at a top club with her friend Taylor and some others, when she had suddenly begun to be pursued by a good-looking older guy there. She had seen him around campus but didn't know his name, and then she got a little tipsy with her friends, only to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"He was nice at first," she whispered. "But then he started to...t-try and touch me and get me to touch h-him...and he pushed me into a back room... I tried to get out, but...he was too..._strong_. His hands...were...everywhere...and I... He kept telling me to shut up so that we could both enjoy ourselves...but I didn't _want_ it." She voice wobbled, and Troy sought her gaze to give her a sincere expression. _It's okay. You don't have to say it. _"Why did he does this to me? I didn't want it, Troy..." she whimpered, suddenly sounding ten years younger than her physical age. She broke into wrecking sobs for the first time since being admitted. True, wailing sobs that shook her body, and Troy felt her heart in his throat, at a loss at how to proceed. Usually he would offer the physical comfort of a hug, as he was not on duty and she wasn't his patient, so such actions were permitted, however, in such situations, with such a fragile patient, he wasn't sure what to do.

"I'm so sorry," Troy husked deeply, biting his lip to avoid breaking down with her. She curled into herself, and he couldn't help but picture her in such a way, all alone on the floor in that dark back room of the club, after _He, _that _animal,_ _left_ her there. Troy had pulled his chair as close as the design of the bed would allow, and so slowly placed a gloved hand on her back as she curled into a side fetal position. He had expected for her to flinch away from him, only, the opposite began to happen, she looked up at him, still crying just as heavily, and that was when he knew what to do. He had seen that look a thousand times growing up, in the faces of almost every girlfriend he had had, an expression many girls are not even aware they are displaying; one that simply requested something that all humans craved, and that one thing was _love_. It was a gaze that he had learned only appeared in desperate times, and should not be denied, it called to him, something within him he hadn't felt in a long time. A look that simply said, _Hold me._

She seemed as drawn to him as he was to her, as she drew herself into his hold slowly, but almost without hesitation. "I'm _so _sorry," he whispered, curling her arms around her shaking body around her middle and shoulders, giving his most gentle bear-hug, if that were even a possible thing to give. She continued to sob noisily, her face hidden in the papery material of his disposable scrubs. "H-he just...k-kept grabbing at me, and he w-wouldn't stop-p... T-then before I could e-even sc-scream h-he... h-e..."

"_Shhh, _I know," he soothed, though in his chest he was anything but calm. Inside him was a burning ball of rage. "I know."

"The p-pain...I-It t-took all the a-air out of m-me... I tried-d to c-call for help. I t-tried.. but t-the music...no one c-could hear..."

Her breathing was increasing, so Troy quickly adopted his medical tactics to lower her heart rate.

"Gabi, I need you to breathe," he whispered, pulling her slightly away from his body, but she clung like an infant primate, her arms fisting the material. He pulled his stethoscope from around his neck with one hand, the other side still around her for reassurance, and once the buds were in her ears, he pressed it to her pulse-point at the top right of her back. Her heart drummed in his ears, and he began to count the amount of beats. "_Breathe_," he exhaled softly, rubbing her back in circles as he stole glances at his watch. He finished counting after sixty seconds, deciding that, though she was calming, he would have liked her heart rate to be slower.

When he pulled the stethoscope down and out of his ears, she was trying to breathe more evenly. He began to take deep breaths right into his lungs, exhaling loudly in the hope her body would naturally begin to match his breathing pattern as it should. "_In_...and out," he encouraged, softly. Gradually, her breathing did even out, and Troy rocked her lightly from back and forth. "That's it. Good girl."

Gabriella had her eyes closed against the fabric, feeling the solid wall of muscle beneath.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all this," he whispered, against the top of her head.

"I deserved it," she muttered, causing Troy's body to freeze.

"Why on earth would you think that?" he whispered, astounded by her self-abhorrence.

"I do deserve it. I threw myself into flirting with him, because, well, guys don't ever hit on me, like, _ever. _In fact, that was the first time anyone had." Her voice was tiny, and Troy sucked in a breath on hearing her words.

"_Never_?" he breeched.

Gabriella shook her bowed head. "I had never been noticed by any guy... _before..._tonight... I've always been the freaky maths girl..."

"Well, I think you're terrific," he assured with a smile, going to move back but still clung on. She slowly loosened a little just to look up at him in surprise.

"_How? How_ am I terrific?" her tone was suddenly stark, angry, not at him, he soon realised, but at herself...and the world, for raising such monsters of men into society who did this to girls like her without a second thought. "How is that _possible_?" She began to grab at her hair and hide her face behind her hands, which were shaking violently again. "Before tonight I was a pathetic _virgin, _Troy_. A nineteen _year old _virgin_," she growled bitterly, "And now, I'm even worse than that. Now I'm _still_ a pathetic virgin, _who doesn't even have her bloody virginity._" Her crying while talking was becoming hysterical, her breathing sounding high pitched. "And all because I was _so_ desperate I wore it like a prize on my sleeve." She laughed without humour as tears fell from her eyes unchecked again. "I _flaunted_ it, I realise that now...and yet I have the _audacity _to sit around and cry about the fact some guy who I lead on actually took me up on my flirting." She shook her head, frowning and dashing her tears in fury. "Because, that's the thing, as much as flaunted and teased them, I had no intention of giving myself to _any_ of them. I never have..." Troy was frowning with a great amount of shock and sympathy. "I prayed to the ceiling all the time for someone to come along that I could lose my virginity to," she whimpered. "Every night when my friends talked about their boyfriends, their nights out, their sex lives, the fact I had never had any of those things outcast me more than I already was... I was just so desperate to be like them, to have been loved..."

She swallowed a took a moment to calm herself a little.

"I realised the other week that soon I'll be turning twenty..." Her lower lip wobbled again. "I just really didn't want to be one of those twenty year olds who has still have never been loved... So, I see now: I brought this on myself..."

Troy took her hand tight in both his own and leant forward near to her face. "_No_," _he denied firmly. _"No way did you do that." He reassured her, but inside, his mind was in circles. _Virgin. She was a _virgin. _Oh fuck... God damn the monster that did this! Let him rot in burning hell. _"No matter how much that may be true, virgin or not, there is absolutely _no _justification for what that bastard did to you."

His eyes never left hers, and she nodded, wanting to accept his words. "Why couldn't I have met you at that club last night, Troy?" she asked rhetorically as she lolled back onto the pillow, tears sliding down her temples and into her hair. He leant forward and swept the tendrils from her eyes, leaning on his elbow next to her, and for a moment he let himself imagine, walking into a pub or a bar, and meeting the beautiful girl in front of him, in her pretty party dress with a big, bright smile and her big chocolate eyes, perfectly sweet and intelligent and..._innocent_. Yes, Lord––why couldn't it have been him? Why put this poor girl through this?

"I don't know, Gabi," he sighed, letting his gloved fingers linger on the heat of her skin. "You have no idea how much I wish it could have been..."

After a moment of quiet, Gabriella suddenly let out the smallest of giggles.

"What?"

"You called me Gabi."

Troy flushed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "Err, sorry..."

"It's alright... No guy has ever called me that before." She smiled down at her lap, bashfully. "I like it."

Troy smiled shyly back at her, feeling his heart pick up. "Good."

"Knock, knock," came Linda's voice from the door as she knocked her fist on it. "You have a visitor."

A moment later, both Troy and Gabriella let a gasp of surprise as Taylor McKessie ran in to her friends side, only to come to an abrupt halt on coming face to face with Troy Bolton.

"_Troy?!" _Taylor exclaimed, hardly believing her eyes. Her old friend from high school in Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA, was stood in front of her, in England, in her English best friend's hospital room.

"What––?!" they both questioned, simultaneously.

"Wait––" Gabriella muttered, confused. "You two _know_ each other?"

Troy grinned and gave Taylor a quick hug, which she returned with equal vigor. "Yeah. We went to high school together."

"_Albuquerque_," Gabriella breathed in realisation, having had many a conversation with Taylor about her country and where she came from.

"Gabriella and I both go to Kings. I'm doing my Masters degree––Gabriella is an undergrad."

Gabriella looked up at the two, feeling a little lost.

"Oh Gabs, what happened?! One minute you were there with a guy and the next you were gone. I tried to find you. I even got a pose of bouncers looking for you, but you were gone..."

Taylor instantly went to her friend's side, about to grip her in a hug. Troy expected her to flinch away, but was, yet again, surprised when she didn't flinch much at all. _Hmm. Perhaps it was only skin to skin contact, rather than contact at all. _In a moment, Gabriella hugged her friend back furiously and began to cry, and soon tears were excaping strong-as-steel Taylor McKessie's eyes too. Troy swallowed, knowing Gabriella would want to tell Taylor what happened, most likely giving her more details than she had given him, so be began to back to the door.

"You're going?!" Gabriella questioned, her voice sounding panicked.

_Damn it, Bolton. Rape or trauma victims of any kind need _consistency. _She needs to know that friendly faces she has begun to trust don't leave her. _

"No, no," he reassured quickly. "I'm just going to change." He took a peek out the small window in the door. "The Police are here to talk to you whenever you're ready."

Gabriella swallowed and nodded gently, looking down as this then caused a tidal wave of questions to cascade from Taylor McKessie's mouth all at once.

"I'll be back in a minute," he called from the door, before closing it and making his way to the staff locker room. There was no one inside, due to the early hours of the morning and the busy nature of the department. There was never much time to stop. The room was dim, the lights from the small windows and the window on the door leaking in artificial light. He trudged to his locker, suddenly realising in the dim, early light of the morning how tired he was. He stole a glance at the clock. It was 6am. With a yawn, he opened his locker, pulling on a fresh white t-shirt and jeans, halting as his eyes fell on the photographs on the inside of his locker door. The Wildcats, senior year; Chad and he at a Red Hawks game; his friends from here at the hospital... His family. Suddenly hit by a violent wave of home-sickness after such an emotion shift, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had had memorised since the age of six years old. _Home. _

_ "Hello?" _came the groggy, half asleep voice of his mother. _Shit, _he realised. _Oh, well done, Idiot. It's 11pm at home. _

"Hey Mama," he greeted guiltily, using the name for her he knew she loved.

_"Troy?" _she questioned, sounding suddenly as though she hadn't been sleeping at all.

"I, er..." Hearing her voice seemed to unlock the vault to his emotions, and he suddenly felt the unmistakeable lump of unshed tears rising in his throat. It had been _far too long _since he had called them. "I just, er..." He sniffed and quickly wiped a tear that fell from his eye. "I just needed to hear your voice." His voice cracked on the last word, raising an octave, and he would have scolded himself for having no control, if he hadn't been so tired.

_"Oh honey, what happened? Are you alright? Did something happen?"_

"No, no," he denied quickly with a wobbling voice. "It's, erm, just been a really rough shift..."

_"Tell me about it, sweetheart. You don't usually get thing emotional outside of the job."_

"I know," he sighed, perching on the arm of the nearest armchair. "It's just, this girl came in earlier, and, Mom, she's beautiful. She's lovely and intelligent. She goes to Kings College, even! But she's...she's so broken..."

_ "What happened?"_

"That doesn't matter, Ma. I––"

_ "If it's upsetting you like this, it must matter an awful lot, Troy. I know you." _He heard muffled talking, and tail end of his mother protesting for his dad to wait a minute.

"The most horrific crime a man could possible commit happened to her, Mom," he mumbled, sadly. "He shoved her into a bad room and torn her innocence away from her, and all she wanted was a guy to finally pay some attention to her, and he...just violated her and left her there to bleed."

Lucille Bolton swallowed, not surprised to this kind of treatment of women from some men, due to her part time job at the local women's shelter, where she saw far too many cases similar to that her son was speaking of.

"She's _nineteen_, Mom... How does a man do such a thing to such an..._obviously _innocent, sweet young women..." He grabbed at his air. "I just don't understand..."

"_Honey, I cannot express how relieved I am that this _is_ such a surprise for you. Men are naturally stronger than women, as you well know, and unfortunately, many men daily make the choice to use that physical strength against the women, who in fact, they only evolved stronger than to protect and fight for." He could hear the bittersweet smile in her voice. "It's up to even stronger men like you to therefore protect and fight for the women they didn't...you see?"_

Troy nodded, only to realise she couldn't see him. "Y-yeah," he agreed, clearing his throat with a sniff.

_"You okay, Honey?"_ she checked after a moment of content quiet between the pair.

"I am now," he murmured, wiping his cheeks. "I just... She's been so broken, displaying some serious shifts in emotional state, and...she even said she thought she deserved what happened, all because she was a virgin before... I managed to get through to her, but, god, she cried so much, Mom. I've never seen such emotion before. All I kept thinking was that I had to be strong, and that I wished you were here, because you'd have known what to say." He looked down at the converse on his feet. "I mean, what do you say to someone who has just had all her perception and belief in the human race ripped from her like that?"

_"I'm sure you did just fine, Honey. You're bedside manner is exceptional...plus it sounds like you have a particular soft spot for this girl."_

He rolled his eyes, feeling like a teenager again, being teased about a crush. "_Maaaa," _he groaned.

She laughed at him. _"Don't you _'Maaa' _me. As I said, I know you, Troy Bolton."_

He smiled to himself, thinking of Gabriella's rare little smiles, and how her small body felt against his own. _So wrong, yet so right. _"She is pretty terrific," he replied in a bashful, shy voice, reluctantly. "But, I barely know her, Ma."

_"There's plenty of time for that,"_ she replied, and he knew she was still laughing at him.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he apologised softly, closing his locker.

_ "It's alright, honey. It's lovely to hear from you. I would pass you over to your dad, but he's already unconscious again."_

Troy laughed softly, shaking his head. "That's okay, Ma. I'll speak to you soon."

_"Alright, honey."_ He went to hang up. _"Troy?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Is she really that beautiful? Because I'll bet she doesn't know it."_

Troy felt a wide smile spread across his face before he could repress it. "Yeah, Mom. She is, and no, she definitely doesn't._"_

_ "Well, you know what they say. Truly beautiful people are like butterflies; they can't see their wings, and so can't see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can... People are like that, too."_

"Thanks, Mom. I don't know what I'd do without you and your proverbs," he teased, though grateful for her words.

_ "Yes, well, let's hope you don't have to find out for a long time coming."_

Troy smiled at the ground, feeling so much better. "I love you, Mom. Tell dad I'll talk to him tomorrow."

_ "Alright, honey. I love you, too. Speak soon."_

**❝~x~❞**

"You're back," Gabriella breathed as Troy closed the exam room door behind him, and he could see her eyes were still puffy and red, as were Taylor's. He could see from the far off look on both their faces that Gabriella had spoken of her ordeal. Taylor, a typical mother hen, looked distraught.

"Hey," he greeted them with a small, apprehensive smile.

"I gave my account to the Police," Gabriella whispered.

Troy sat down opposite Taylor on the other side of Gabriella's bed. "Good. It's the right thing to do."

"I, er... They said I need to let one of the doctors examine me and take DNA for evidence..." She swallowed. "And a pregnancy test." Troy closed his eyes involuntarily for a moment, silently praying on impulse. _Please, God, no. _She looked up, first at Taylor, and then at Troy and back again. "Will you stay with me? Both of you?"

Troy and Taylor looked at one another, both feeling emotional at her sweet, innocent demeanour. _Like she had to ask. _

"Of course," they agreed in unison in their American vernacular, all three pairs of eyes glassy with dark bags and hunched spines, but with gentle smiles on their lips. Maybe things would still be okay after all.

**❝~x~❞**

It was not long until Christmas now, and Troy thumbed his fingers against his local _Pet A Manger_ table, sipping his coffee as slowly as possible to put off going back into the cold. There was thin snow on the ground, that had now turned to sludge, which he hated. It wouldn't be long until he was back home in Albuquerque for Christmas however, and then he would be finding another rotation back in his own country, where at least it was warm. At the thought of leaving, Troy's thoughts went guiltily back to Gabriella, the only reason he _really _had left to stay here. She had been so frightened as they examined her genital area for damage, as well as DNA, she had gripped his hand. "Look right at me," he husked to her, knowing how humiliating such an experience always was for patients. Luckily, she had only needed a few stitches, and she hadn't been pregnant or caught any infections. Safe to say all three of them had breathed a massive sigh of relief on that one.

He softly let his gaze drift out the window, only to catch a sudden flash of dark hair that made her nerves buzz and his heart leap into his mouth. Leaping from his seat, he stuck his head out the door of the coffee shop.

"_Gabriella_?"

He watched her leap almost out of her skin at the sound of her name, spinning round to meet him. Her face, appearing frightened for a millisecond, became one of relief. Her chocolate eyes met his, and he sighed, realising how much he had missed her.

"Oh, Troy!" She huffed. "It's just you!" She quickly hurried into the warm, and followed him to his table, and Troy didn't miss the way she walked hunched, looking over her shoulder with every other second. As she sat down next to him in the booth, she wrung her hands in her lap.

"Would you like a drink?"

Gabriella met his eyes only once, and instantly, Troy knew she wasn't any better. He had seen her the day after she was discharged from May-view, and had kept in contact with her via phone calls when he had time, but his job in its final days was as demanding as ever, so this was not nearly as often as he would have liked.

"Tea, please."

"Earl Grey?" he asked, as he had noted a long time ago now it was a favourite of many Brits.

"Please," she breathed. "Milk. Two sugars."

"Sure," he smiled. "I'll be right back."

When Troy returned, having had an uncomfortable second conversation with the same barista who served him earlier, who still hadn't seemed to have grasped that he. _Wasn't. Interested. _She was nice enough, but she wore too much make up and, well... She wasn't...she wasn't _Gabriella_. Simple as that.

"_Ah_," he sighed as he sat down. "Here you are," putting down her drink in front of her. She swallowed, thanking him softly.

Then, silence stretched between them.

"How have you been?"

Gabriella frowned into her cup of tea, running fingers along the cast on her wrist. "Okay, I guess."

_So... Not okay at all. _"Have you gone to any of the the support groups Linda suggested since we talked the other day?"

Gabriella carried on staring intently at her cup as though it were a half finished crossword puzzle, indicating that she hadn't.

"_Gabriella––_" he sighed in concern.

"––_I know, _I know, I'm sorry, but I can't go to those things, I just...just..._can't_. I don't know how to talk about it...not with strangers..."

"Gabriella––"

"Because, I already know, I know that...that...no matter how many help sessions I go to, it won't help me."

Troy swallowed, his thigh centimetres from hers. His lowered his voice to a husked whisper. "But 'Brie, you _don't_ know that...If you don't try, you won't get better––"

"––I _do_, though," she argued back in a slightly louder husk, her voice sad. "Because, _Christ, _it happened just_ down the road_, Troy... I can't...walk _anywhere_ by myself now without a can of pepper spray in my pocket, and I most certainly won't ever go out at night alone again... This was my home and now..." She shook her head, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "He's ruined it all... This can never be home again."

Troy frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying..." A small tear fell quickly from her eye, and he reached up slowly to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, only to stop himself and instead hook his sleeve over it, using the material to wipe away the moisture. "I can't stay here." Her chin began to wobble as she tried to hold in the tears. She tried to calm herself with a sip of her tea, but her hands only shook more. He took them both in time to let her rest her head against his coat-clad collarbone, and he curled her into the warm of his body. Her skin was cold, and as she breathed heavily and sniffed to try and clear her tears. He pressed a shy kiss to her hair.

"It's okay... I get it...I'm just so sorry it has to come to that... What will you do about Kings?"

Gabriella shrugged. "I don't know..."

"I'm sure, with your amazing grades so far, you could easily get a transfer... If you tell them what's happened, they'll understand... Didn't you say your Mom's in California with her new husband?"

Gabriella nodded. "Mom moved to live with him when I moved out."

"Hmm..." Troy suddenly gasped, experiencing what can only be described as an epiphany. "'Brie. Come with _me."_

Gabriella wiped her eyes as she snapped her gaze to his, her eyes suddenly shining with an emotion he had never seen there before. _Hope. _"_What_? What are you talking about?"

"My rotation in England ends in the next few days...and then I go home for Christmas... I have narrowed down three possible hospitals for my residency...and one of those is...in _California_... Home back to the US with me."

With widen eyes, Gabriella's jaw had dropped, only for it to retract a moment later. "But...we barely know each other."

Troy paused, smiling suddenly as his mothers words from the same day he met Gabriella returning to him. "There's plenty of time for that." He reached to smooth her hair, shushing her as she jumped out her skin at the simple sudden noise of someone dropping plates. She was increasingly jumping and fearful after the attack, and no wonder. "I...I just...I have this..._need _to protect you since I met you that I...I can't quite explain."

Gabriella allowed herself to smile, and though it was a small smile, it melted Troy's heart. "Could we really do this?"

"Yes," he nodded, suddenly sure he had never felt more certain of anything in his life. "Of course."

"What about arrangements––Unis––_Visas! _I have no idea how to––"

"But I _do," _he confirmed, suddenly bouncing with the prospect on taking Gabriella home with him, taking her away from the city where her memories of her trauma were everywhere she turned.

Gabriella swallowed hard, wishing she could be optimistic like he was, but the Monster who attacked her almost three weeks ago had ruined any hope of that for her.

"Think about it," he smiled. "It would mean you could get away from Him, Gabi, and for good..." He took the final sips of his coffee. "I'll help you with anything you need, whatever you decide... Just know that."

Gabriella nodded, deep in thought, and Troy softly pull her to him, embracing her and wrapping her into his thick coat, taking her jacket-clad wrists as gently as possible in his hands and blowing warm air from his lungs onto her cool hands, careful not to touch her.

"It'll all be okay in the end," he whispered as she closed her eyes against him, calming at the thud of his steady heartbeat against her ear, the one lifeline she had since that horrendous night two weeks ago.

"If it is not yet okay, then it is not the end," she finished for him in an equally soft voice, silently praying he was right. About everything.

**❝~x~❞**

Troy hurried up to the address Taylor had given him, taking the stairs two at a time. He had received a worrying voicemail from his old high school friend that was rather cryptic, so he wasn't sure what was waiting for him inside her flat as he knocked his fist on her door.

"_Troy!" _she huffed before the door was even fully open, yanking him inside. "Thank god!"

"_What?_––"

"It's Gabriella." Taylor's eyes were fearful, wide and round. "I––"

As if on queue, Troy hear muffled commotion from another room, sounding distinctly like their brunette friend. His eyes snapped to Taylor's, suddenly equally panicked.

"Was that––?"

"She's been having night terrors since she was discharged, so after the first few nights she came here to stay with me so she wouldn't have to explain it to her friends in halls..." Troy quickly set off in search of the source of the crying, Taylor straight on his tail. "But it's gotten even worse..." Troy opened the guest bedroom door to find Gabriella in a twisted position on the bed, tangled in sheets with a anguished expression. "I can't wake her... Why can't I wake her?"

Troy rushed to her side, untangling her legs from the sheets. "Gabi!Gabi!_ Gabi!" _he called over and over, running hands along her limbs to try and still them as they thrashed. She was whimpering like a broken puppy and begging in unintelligible unfinished sentences. She fought reflexively against his touch once his skin came in contact with hers, her voice rising suddenly to an almost deafening volume. He knew what was happening. Her mind was mistaking his skin contact for..._That _monsters.

_"Please...No, no..." _She inhaling and exhaling was laboured and loud, and he knew he was going to need to get her breathing normally to prevent a full blown panic attack. "_Stop, please... S-somebody...h-help...n-no...Troy, help...me...I can't...breathe...NO! Get away!..."_

_ "Shh, shhhh," _he cooed loudly, his voice breaking under the anxiety of having to see her this way, taking her lashing body into his arms as he sat on the bed. "Gabriella! It's me! It's Troy, you're okay. Just open you eyes. It's all go away, just open your eyes. He's not here. You're _safe. Safe, Gabi._"

He held her tight, kissing her hair over and over. He held her wrists, letting her try to hit him all she wanted, as he strikes were weakening.

"Gabriella!" he called, cooing, rocking back and forth.

She opened her eyes suddenly, her gaze disorientated, spanning around the room and then meeting Troy's face, the whites of her eyes clearly visible with her fear, her limbs shaking. "Troy," she whimpered in surprise and confusion. "Troy," she breathed and suddenly she was curled into him like she had been the first day, clinging to him like an infant, sobbing her heart out in dry heaves. He was careful to avoid touching her skin to skin.

"It's okay. It was just a nightmare. You're okay... _Breathe_," he murmured into her hair, curling arms around her.

"H-he...was h...H-he pushed...my...kn-knicker-rs in my...mouth...and...I-I...It just... hurt...It hurt...so much..." Troy's heart splinted a little at the details that began tumbling almost unintelligibly from her lips as she shook. Gradually he got her breathing to slow as she lulled against him, fighting sleep with every fibre. Taylor had left the room a while ago with teary eyes, but not before handing him a cool cloth to mop Gabriella's heated brow and neck. He did so with his gentlest touch, her head lolling back as the moisture wet her skin. They rolled to lay down with her still against him.

"Sleep, beautiful, _beautiful _girl," he husked in the dim light of her room, feeling her fighting her body's urge to droop.

"I can't," she whispered, slowly. "He'll come back."

"He won't come back. The police have him, now... It was just a nightmare. He'll never come near you again."

"I just want to sleep," she whimpered, and he felt tears begin to wet his shirt and skin beneath. He realised he had obviously over-looked the dark rings under her eyes when he had seen her at the coffee shop earlier that day, but suddenly now they stood out in his memory. The poor girl probably hadn't slept at all since the attack,

"Then sleep, Gabi. I'll be here if the dream comes back." He kissed her hairline again. "I'll be here."

"Thank you," she cried as she finally relaxed against him, and as the tension finally fell away from both their bodies and the air around them, Troy let a lone tear slip from his eye in mourning of what this beautiful girl had had stolen away. "Thank you for finding me."

**❝~x~❞**

Gabriella couldn't believe what she had just done. She had told her mother about..._that night... _She had been made to promised by Troy she would wait for him before telling her, but then say rang and, being the mother she was, instantly knew something was off and then would not halting interrogating her until she spilled the beans...only to be stunned into silence when Gabriella finally let go and told her. _How, _had been the first question, then, _Where, _and it went on and on until they were both in tears. She instantly demanded Gabriella come to California for the Christmas holidays or she would move back to live with her in her halls bedroom. Safe to say she had been relieved to hear about Gabriella's plans to come to California very soon...though she very deliberately left out any details of...arriving with a guy, her former doctor, and visiting his family in New Mexico first... She wasn't quite sure what was going to happen about Christmas Day itself... She wasn't sure she was going to brave enough to travel all the way from New Mexico to California by herself...but she couldn't exactly expect Troy to miss out on such a time with his family...

She heard a knock, walking quickly to the door, peering nervously through the finder, just to sigh in relief at the sight of Troy standing there.

She sighed as she let him in, softly reaching to hug him quickly over his coat, hiding her puffy eyes in the material.

"Oh," he sounded in surprise at her embrace, gladly accepting the hug gently. "Hello to you too. Where's Taylor?"

"Work. She won't be back until later..." She was hoping he wouldn't be able to tell simply from her voice that she had been sitting upright on the settee all late afternoon and evening, pretending to watch TV shows she once loved, listening nervously for any sound, waiting until she would have company again.

"Have you been okay here by yourself?" he asked, leading her into the open-plan kitchen where he folded his coat over a barstool.

"I'm fine," she replied far too quickly, and she caught his sympathetic gaze before he walked over to her again.

"You will be," he reassured, letting his fingers capture a loose curl that had fallen in her eyes.

"My mum called."

"Oh?"

"And I told her everything."

Troy stopped chewing a crisp and looked at her. "Gabriella, I said you could wait for me and I'd help you."

"I know, I'm sorry, but she knew instantly something was wrong, and I couldn't lie to her... You're not pissed at me, are you?"

"Hell no," he denied with a bemused frown. "Of course I'm not. What did she say?"

"That I should come to California...to which I said I was already planning to...at _some_ point."

Troy began to chuckle. "Yeah––wise not to mention the random American junior medic."

Gabriella frowned disapprovingly. "She'd _love _you, but... I just thought I'd wait and see what we decide to do..."

Troy nodded and they both digested this in the quiet of the flat.

"I like your trousers," she commented of his navy chinos he had pulled on in a rush after his second to last day at May-view.

"You do?" He looked down at them, which he worn with his trademark converse. "They're pretty new. I wasn't so sure..."

"They're lovely...especially with those trainers..." She was smiling, as though about to laugh out loud at something running through her head. "Very British-prep-meets-skater-jock..."

She was smirking at him, and he chuckled along with her. "Well, considering I was once a 'jock,' and have become somewhat adopted by the British, that would make sense..."

"You were a jock?" she enquired with genuine interest, having always found the American people interesting, the idea of cheerleaders and homecoming and student elections and annual yearbooks and prom kings and queens all very alien to a girl of simple English country-side heritage.

"In high school, yeah. I suppose so."

"Wow," she murmured as the took a seat on either end of the sofa with a bag of Walkers crisps each. "So, you were popular too, I'm guessing."

Troy smiled at her sudden interest, delighted to see her finally distracted from her own life for a while. "I never thought about it much...but I guess I was." He suddenly cringed, recalling the East High cafeteria. "The school did seem to like printing massive, ceiling high banners with my face on..."

Gabriella's jawed dropped as she barked out a laugh at his expense. "No _way!"_

_ "Way," _he replied, regretfully, causing her to giggle more, and soon he joined her chortling.

"I'm sure the girls liked them," she teased, sucking crisp salt from her thumb.

Troy laughed slightly awkwardly, having never liked to address the subject of his apparent good looks. He knew the effect he could easily have on females, of almost any age or caliber, but unlike most other 'jocks' he had known, he had never felt comfortable abusing those lucky qualities at the poor girls expense, much less preening or primping himself, or spending hours looking at his reflection.

"I know I would have," Gabriella carried on, before he could think of a suitable reply.

Troy's eyes met hers, and she seemed slightly bashful at her comment, as though it had slipped from her lips of its own accord.

"Well... That means more to me than if the entire female student body had so, I assure you..." he murmured, looking at her from under his lashes, and for a moment, they simply let his words sink in. "Few actually ever addressed me about them, or the rest of the team––they were on most of them too."

Gabriella smiled, taking comfort in the fact they both had a tendency to be bashful when discussing themselves, and suddenly, common ground seemed to be stumbled upon. The conversation became even easier from there, as each quizzed the other about the smallest details of their lives. Troy told stories of his days with Taylor, and with his best friend Chad with crazy facial expressions until Gabriella cried with laughter. Oh, such laughter. How she had missed laughing. She was beginning to think it really was the only medicine for the broken soul.

**❝~x~❞**

Gabriella sat, deep in thought, avoiding splinters from the wood of Troy's childhood treehouse as she breathed in the warm air of the Albuquerque night. It felt so strange to not need layers and layers of clothing so close to Christmas. She looked up at the stars that decorated the deep navy night sky, closing her eyes to the sound of loud, lively crickets in the bushes and the trees. For a moment, she envied his new male friend more than ever, not only for being the kindest person she had ever had the pleasure of coming across, but because he got to grow up here...must have been a small piece of peaceful bliss.

"Penny for your thoughts?" came an enquiry in a faux English accent from the lawn below. Gabriella smiled down at him, giggling softly at his attempt at her accent.

"Nah, dude. I'm not sure I feel like it," she replied, equally hushed, imitating him in a manner that, she already knew, was pretty accurate. She had always been good with accents.

"That was pretty good!" He was laughing as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake his parents at the early hours of the morning. "You got jet lag, too?"

"'Yup," she agreed softly. "It's a bitch."

He gasped, melodramatically, gripping his chest as he sat next to her at the edge of the treehouse. "Such language, Miss Montez."

"Fuck you," she sneered playfully to cover the desire the buzzed through her as he sat so close to her, his thigh parallel to hers as their legs dangled from the edge. This comment began to register though, and suddenly the last few weeks bounced back to her, and she frowned, more than displeased with her own choice of words. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he replied with a chuckle, in his usual 'no sweat' attitude.

"Your family are lovely, by the way," she murmured, grimacing subtly as she shifted position, feeling a fresh ripple of intense discomfort spread through her lower abdomen, lower back and pelvic region, aching as she felt the pressure building higher and the heaviness still as dominant as before.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked in concern as she shifted to dig her fingers into her abdemon.

"Nothing, it's just bloody menstrual cramps." She shifted again, letting a further wince twist her features this time. "_Ouch, ah, _it hurts..."

"Have you had any painkillers?"

"Yeah...but they don't seem to want to work. _God, _you're lucky you're a man," she groaned, flopping back into a laying position on the solid wood, her hands rubbing her lower abdomen. "No periods, no monthly searing pain, no giving birth..." She paused, releasing the significance of her next words in her own life suddenly weighing down on her. "Painless sex."

Troy lay down next to her slowly, looking over at her with a heavy heart. After what she had been through, he knew that men as a general species deserved that, because it was true for many. There for plenty of men who thrived on the fact they could, for lack of a better phrase, penetrate then leave. Women had so many more things to worry about. Pain on losing virginity, having another persons organ inside their body...not to mention pregnancy, menstrual cycles and shaving god knows how many parts of their bodies to appear socially 'acceptable' to men. Looking up at the stars, he sighed.

"Men are shits," he said matter-of-factly, earning a giggle from her he had hoped for. "We really are. We're idiots. Women wear the pants in _every _relationship, mark my words. You're just...so much smarter and more attuned and experienced than us guys, you know. _So _much more... I mean, we may be...fortunate enough to have and not have such things, but...in the end...the experiences and the lessons of life you learn are so much more worthwhile..." He leant up on an elbow. "Safe to say you have met a right load of shits in your life, 'Brie, but I promise you, we're not all _that _bad...and I know you won't believe me, and, fuck, I don't blame you after...but...there are _good _guys."

Gabriella turned to look at him, his blue eyes shining against the dim of the garden lighting. "If I hadn't met you that night...I don't think I would have have believed that again." She winced and whimpered again as Troy rolled closer.

"May I?" Troy asked, his healers hands hovering over her abdomen where she had been pushing her fingers into it. She nodded, her body stiffening, only to relax when his subtle fingers pressed right into the two exact sources of the pain at her 'V' of lower abdomen, just in from where either of her hipbones protruded, into her pelvic region. The flesh was soft, womanly, even from over her t-shirt, but he could also feel the more firmer muscle deep beneath, where, to Gabriella, it felt like both her ovaries were on fire. His strong fingers dug into the flesh to press the two parallel points where the aching pain seemed to originate, and she softly groaned in relief.

"Healers hands," she sighed as he continued, leaning over her on his hip.

"For you, Gabriella, always," he vowed with an exaggerated deep voice, causing her to grin with a flush to her cheeks.

"Wow," she sighed, euphorically. "You're good at this... Do you charge by the hour, because I could really use this every month."

Troy shook his head slightly, chortling. He paused, unable to prevent his medical brain from churning as she expressed her discomfort. "Have you ever considered going on the contraceptive pill?"

Gabriella almost choked on her own saliva. "I'm sorry?"

"No, I––" He quickly grabbed at his bangs in despair and embarrassment at his own choice of words. "Sorry, I just meant that...the pill can be very effective for women who have excessive primary dysmenorrhea."

Gabriella blinked a few times, trying to digest his last sentence. "I'm sorry, I don't speak doctor... And by that you mean...?"

"Sorry––excessive period pain."

"Oh right, yes, _duh, _stupidme_––Doctor_ Bolton," she blushed a soft pink, looking down at her lap. "Erm, I hadn't thought about the pill. It's just...always been this way, I guess, but I'd never had a reason to take the pill before...before, because I'd never...been sexually active at all, and I thought that was mostly its sole purpose."

There was a moment of awkward silence, before Troy cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, that was weird of me."

Gabriella smiled, lopsidedly. "It's okay. It's nice to have someone around who knows the answers to such pressing questions in life."

"Feeling better?" he asked, shifting to pressing his thumbs into her lower back muscles that were tight with tension, while also massaging her lower abdomen.

"Uh huh," she sighed breathlessly, riding out the pain that still radiated from her uterus walls. God, Troy..." She rolled to face him and his hands stilled. "Without you...I don't know what I would have done..." Suddenly emotional, both at his kindness toward her and just because the last few weeks had been such a roller coaster. "You make me feel whole...for the first time...well, _ever_, actually."

Troy lowered his face to hers, so close that his breath swept across her face, leaving her, ironically, breathless. "You have no idea...how mutual that feeling is..." He softly kissed her hair. "I can't believe the depths at which I already adore you."

Gabriella swallowed, trying to catch her breath. "Ditto," she slammed her eyes shut for a moment. "I just _wish..._that we could...that I could _give_ you...what he took. I wish he hadn't ruined this for me... My heart drums in panic at any contact at all, but when skin touches mine..." She looked around, her eyes glistening as tears almost overflowed. "All I can feel is...the _burning _of..._His_ skin grabbing, clawing at mine..." She met his cobalt eyes above her, only to see them equally glossy with emotion. "I just _wish_..."

As she trailed, he nodded firmly, sniffing. "I know. I know."

She looked up at the man next to her, who rolled slightly away from her to sit up, swallowing to try and clear his emotion. She thought back to how he treated her for the little time she had been his patient, and how he had stayed with her even when he had been up all night and barely knew her, taking a leap to get to know her. She realised how fearless he had been, how selfless, and suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

"Do it, Troy. Touch me," she blurted in sudden realisation, causing Troy to stare back at her for a moment, not sure how to proceed. She raised a hand, encouraging his to raise to meet it. He paused, his heart picking up like a teenage boy. "Are you sure?"

Gabriella closed her eyes, trying to calm her panicked heartbeat, that was thumping in her ears. "My heart is going crazy... It's so loud...Why is it so loud?"

"Here," he whispered, taking her hand with barely any touch at all and pressing the pad of her own thumb at the pulse-point at her own opposite one good wrist. She suddenly felt the surreal sensation of consciously feeling her thudding heartbeat through both sides of her body, as the beats pulsed through her thumb and also up her opposite arm. "If you ever feel panicked, just do this one simple thing. Feel how solid that beating is? That is all _you_, Gabriella, the life pulsing through your veins. You have lived through such a cruel and _horrific _thing, and look at you––Look how _strong_ you are!" She went to shake her head in denial, only for him to tighten his pressure slightly of his thumb pressing hers into her pulse. "Hey––You are _strong. _ Feel this pulse, steady and solid, and just remember: You survived. You beat that bastard, Gabriella. He didn't win. _You _did. You are _strong._ Remember that._" _

"You say that like you may not always be here to tell me."

Troy twisted his lips in dismissal, holding her gaze with an inner amount of strength she could only ever wish to possess. "I will fight with all I am to make sure that never happens."

"You're very impulsive, you know," she husked in reply after a moment of quiet.

"I've been told," he whispered, and it was then that the pair became suddenly conscious that the pads of Troy's thumbs had moved to the pulse points at her one good wrist, smoothing the skin with the more delicate of touches. Gabriella felt her heart racing, but this time it felt different somehow. It was a new sensation altogether. This one simple touch at her lifelines causing a sharp tug deep within her stomach, like a zap of electric current, that took her breath away and caused her lips to part involuntarily.

"Did you feel that?" His slightly amused half smile told her he had. "What _was _that?"

Troy let his face linger centimetres from hers, smiling at her innocence, but also in sympathy that she had never experienced such the simplest of human sensations before one man ruined it for her. "Desire," he breathed in a whisper, risking total shut down and rejection by lifting a finger to touch her plump bottom lip. "Attraction." He felt her breath quick against her finger, as he smoothed her pulse with his other. "Love," he finished almost completely mutely, before grazing noses with hers. After this, the gentlest of touches between two lovers, the touches became braver. Soft palms touched, fingers delicately interlocking as two pairs of eyes, out of focus and also crossed, stayed trained on one another; blue on brown; cobalt on chocolate. With great care, Troy tipped his head a little, his breath brushing her lips, causing her to close her eyes involuntarily as flashbacks began to take hold. "Don't," he whispered, urging her to fight back. "Keep your eyes on me." Gabriella swallowed hard, and Troy almost pulled away, watching a great internal battle commence in her eyes. "It's just me, beautiful, sweet girl," Troy whispered. "Just me. I would never hurt you."

Gabriella tilted herself toward him, their foreheads together. Troy slowly, sensual touched his lips to hers, not moving one inch, simply letting their lips, their noses, rest together and their hot breath mingle, and this somehow suddenly felt more intimate than any other first kiss could be. Their lips stayed against one another, not moving, hot breath becoming even hotter as they didn't move an inch. Finally shifting position, Troy pouted his lips in the tiniest movement to drop a feather-light kiss on hers before pulling back a milimetre or two. Gabriella sighed, tears slowly falling from her eyes as she felt the overwhelming emotion of being desired, being wanted, being _loved_.

Breaking away, she sobbed in relief, shock, sorrow and exhaustion, her head in her hands, and Troy instantly hesitated.

"Shit, 'Brie, I'm so sorry––"

"No, no," she sniffed. "It's not you... That was..._wow_... I just... I have never felt wanted before, and I just..." Her lip quivered as she tried to keep the courage she had built up to maintain eye contact. His blue eyes so deep she hoped to drown and never resurface. "_I love you._" Then, she had embraced him into a bear hug, tightly squeezing him around the neck as she buried her face into the warm, soft skin of his neck. "I love you, Troy. I love you, I love you."

Troy's muscular arms tightened around her back, a palm smoothing over her thin t-shirt, feeling her delicate body shutter with her emotion. There was suddenly wetness on his own cheeks, so he quickly nuzzled his face into the mass of ebony curls at her shoulder, sniffing himself. "Oh, Gabriella..." He took a moment to try and gather his bearings. "I love you, too," he whispered, curling and re-curling her into his body with a sudden need to cocoon her that was so strong he wished for a moment he could envelope her completely. "More than they earth loves the sun and the eye loves the stars."

Like this, the two cried for a while. It was cathartic, but also there was a feeling of washing one another with the sterile moisture of their tears in order to start anew. Washing away the grime of times past, preparing for life in new pastures, together.

"You know," Gabriella began after what left like a long time, as the sun began to rise and the two were curled under a discarded old blanket. "My mum always said that one day I would meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, I would feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else I have ever met before––closer to them than her, or any of my closest family––one sent to me for some higher purpose; to teach me an important lesson or to keep me safe during a perilous time..." She began to laugh. "That is so creepy. She really _is_ always right."

Troy rested his chin on her head, kissing her above the ear with a soft smile. "She sounds like a very smart women. No wonder you're an Einstein-ette."

She huffed, poking his ribs, to which he chuckled and she giggled. "She said all I would have to do is trust in whoever that stranger was, even if their meeting came hand in hand with pain or suffering. But I would always wonder, what did you know _which _stranger would be this miraculous one who would change your life? I mean, aren't we brought up in our society not to talk to strangers?" She looked out at the view of the houses and the sun rising up while the neighbourhood slept. "Maybe we're just meant to be fearless in life, otherwise, how can we meet that one person...how can we love? After all, love is more fearless and reckless than anything... That is what you have taught me, Troy Bolton, that I have to be fearless, in spite of myself or whatever happens to me...because if I won't take the leap for me, who will?"

Troy smiled, biting back the urge to crush her to him. "I will," he vowed in a husked, choked up voice, gently and slowly taking her face in his hands and cradling it, smoothing back crazy, humidified curls. "I will take any leap for you, as long as I am able, and long after I'm not."

Gabriella had no words left, having been stunned by the depth of Troy's heart and soul at every turn. She smiled through tired, puffy and smeary eyes, pinching his t-shirt clad bicep that bulged as he held her like a delicate flower. "And I for you... Not that you'll need it, _Action Man_."

At her teasing of his physique, they chortled, the sound of laughter the only sound accompanying the soundtrack of New Mexico crickets and early-morning bird calls.

_Yes_, Gabriella thought as Troy Bolton's cobalt, aqua, azure eyes sparkled and danced with the merriment they shared; his child-like throwing-head-back laugh that lit up his already luminous features.

_ Perhaps laughter really was the _only_ medicine, after all. _

_**❝~x~❞**_

A/N: EPILOGUE to come...depending on how much to like this one :) LY guys- please review! xxxxxx


	2. Epilogue

****A/N: _Hey, so... here's this. I don't know what to say. I'm going to miss these characters... I know, it's only been two chapters in total, but hey––I get attacked :P  
LOVE & HUGS,_

_x x x STARSWalkBACKWARD x x x_

* * *

**Epilogue**

_ "NO! No, PLEASE!"_

_ "Hey, shhh, _baby, shhh," came Troy's soft, tenor voice from deep within his chest, muffled by sleep, and for a strange millisecond he mistook this moment for the first time he witnessed one of her night terrors, back in Taylor's apartment in London not long after they first met, however, he just as quickly woke enough to realise that was not the case at all. Gabriella whimpered beside him, her dreams still haunting her, anchoring her to sleep she he could tell she was fighting to wake. Troy frowned to himself in the darkness of their master bedroom, pulling himself from his own sleep as quickly as possible, blinking through sore, tired eyes. Her nightmares hadn't been this bad in a long time.

"No...no..._no!" _she whined, rolling back and forth restlessly, her limbs twitching against an imaginary attacker. Troy quickly reached to turn on his bedside light on the lowest dim setting, turning back to her with a tight expression as he witnessed the way her face was twisted in pain and anguish, her breathing rapid and tight, whimpers and cries escaping, sounding like someone was twisting a knife in her gut. "Don't––don't––_don't_...NO! _Ahh_––"

"Gabriella!" he called softly, over and over, capturing her wrists, gently, his thumb tracing her pulse point, deliberately circling over the dark lines of the thumb print––_his_ thumb print––that was inked there.

"No! no!" she cried hysterically.

"Hey, hey, hey, _shh." _

"_NO!_ NO!..."

"Wake up, Gabriella! Wake up! It's just a nightmare. You're _alright_."

"_Troy? _...No, no..." came the softest of whispers, as she began to resurface.

"That's it, Gabriella, my darling. It's just a dream," he whispered softly, trying to keep his voice level and calm even though her anguish made tied him up in knots. As his large hands framed her face, his ring cool against her hot skin, he kissed her face repeatedly, anywhere he could reach.

"Troy?" she whispered fearfully, taking in the sight of his bright blue eyes, tired as they were, penetrating deep into her soul that was raw and torn from her nightmare. It was just all so real... Like she was nineteen again.

"I'm here, my beautiful girl," he whispered back, smoothing his palm down her face and his thumb over her sharp cheekbones. Roughly and indelicately, he felt her sob loudly into the crook of his neck as she gripped the bare skin of his back painfully with her short nails. Slowly, he rolled the two of them so they were both laying down again, his strong arms curled around her bare form to keep her flesh against him and warm. The sheets had tangled beyond hope around her feet due to her kicking, but neither felt the cold of the air without sheets, despite the fact they were both without a single piece of clothing, due to the exertion caused by her nightmare. Her body was slightly slick with a thin sheen of sweat, and Troy noted her hair stick to her forehead, so he gently pushed it back. Her muscles twitched as she was still breathing rapidly, causing Troy to sigh. This procedure had been all too familiar night after night for a long time after they first met. He had gotten his hopes up that perhaps that these nightmares were completely a thing of the past.

"Remember that pulse, sweetheart," he cooed, guiding her thumb to her opposite wrist to press it to her pulse point where his thumb print was tattooed, a gesture she had done to surprise him on their one year anniversary of meeting, to always remind her if she were to ever panic or feel herself getting lost, that Troy was always there for her. She had tricked him into giving her his thumb print by stating it was simply to a piece of art she was doing in her free time. He had given it to her easily, as she had appeared to have collected many prints from their family and friends. She did in fact my art from it...but it had turned out this had not been her _original_ intention.

He curled his hand to the small of her back, feeling her baby-soft calfs and thighs against him own, though desperately trying to avoid his private parts from contacting hers. The two were nude due to their lovemaking the night before, and as Gabriella folded herself even closer into him, beginning to calm, he rubbed her back and tried desperately not to pay too much attention to the luscious curve of her bottom, the soft expanse of her wide, womanly hips, and the way her body dipped at her tiny waist like a magnificently crafted piece of art. She was so soft and warm, her small breasts pressed together between her arms as she cuddled into him, her nipples against his chest. She was completely naked against him, wearing nothing but the jewelry he had bought her. He had to close his eyes tightly to block it out, willing such images away. The last thing he needed right now was a hard on. Gabriella, who was once a victim of rape at the hands of a man with no self control, was terrified and _needed_ him. He had to control himself, for gods sake! What was he? A horny teenager?!

"I have you," he whispered, leaning back to turn off the lamp with one hand, never loosening his arm around around her. "It's alright. You're safe. He can't get you. It was just a dream. I'm here. I love you, baby." He repeated slowly, a mantra he had been using with every haunting episode that she suffered since the night they met. She was so much better than she had been back then; not nearly as afraid to go places alone, as long as it was not after dark, and she didn't mind loud thumping music so much anymore, that had originally triggered flashbacks. She was such a strong woman, she was then at the age of nineteen, and she still was now, at the age of twenty-five. He couldn't have been more proud of her. However, very recently, in the last week, he was sure there had been something off about her ire. She had been distracted, extremely emotional, distant, and when he questioned it, she had said it was simply the stress of her job, and while he did not doubt the level of stress in her law firm representing trauma and assault victims like she had once been, Troy was not sure that that was the problem here. It bothered him more than he would like to admit; that he couldn't put a finger on it.

"I hate this," Gabriella suddenly sighed tearfully against his skin, her voice sounding frustrated and angry. "I hate this, Troy. What _use_ am I to anyone like this? What kind of a protector or parent could I ever possibly be when he still controls my mind like this? What kind of a bloody _wife _am I?! God. How is this happening, after all this time? It's so vivid, still, like it was yesterday that he pushed me into that back room, tore off my only fancy pair of knickers, shoved them into my mouth and fucked me like I was a..._fucking_ toy––"

Troy flinched at her description. Details of Gabriella's assault were the one thing, even after years of emergency and surgical medicine, he could barely stomach. He had made her tell him everything the night they got engaged, on the fourth anniversary of when they first met that night in London, which stood, unfortunately, merely _hours_ after the day that represented the anniversary of the assault she endured before meeting him, that had haunted her since. Luckily, she had been brought into the hospital in the early hours of the following day, so their anniversary was never completely tarnished by being on the exact same day, at least. Incidentally, however, they had made sure not to get married in November as to not tarnish further events that represented their new life together.

He had told her he needed to know her inner-most demons if he had any hope of taking care of her like a husband should. It turned out, she had held back information for a long time, trying to protect him, it seemed, as there were details revealed in her account she gave him on that night, after a considerable amount of liquor consumed, that she had managed to keep from him every time they had tried to discuss it in the four years up to that date. Safe to say, Troy had reversed his stomach into the nearest toilet one too many times that night, with Gabriella at his side, and it had had nothing to do with the liquor...

"I hate him. I _hate _him! I hate him," she sobbed. "You must be sick of me."

"Hey, hey, easy, baby, _easy_," he murmured in his soothing voice, trying to calm her. "There is no way I could ever 'be sick' of you, darling," he denied huskily with a soft smile. "You know I know what you mean. No one hates that man like I do, baby, but you can't let him break you. I know it's frightening, but I believe in you. Your family, _my_ family, our _friends_, we _all_ believe in you. You are a wonderful, wonderful, wife; a beautiful person. You're everything to me."

Gabriella sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand indelicately. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, and he could make out the outline of her silhouette and facial features in the dark room.

"Oh, Troy, I hope I never have to go back to living life without you in it. You are...the best husband a woman could ask you. Do you know that?"

"That's only because I have the best wife a man could ask for, baby."

"You're a such a charmer," she conceded, playfully.

"Indeed."

"Thank you, though. _Really,_" she replied, softly. "If you had told me when we first met I'd be _your_ wife, I would have recommended you be sectioned," she giggled, and Troy rolled his eyes, even though he knew she could not see them.

"I actually would have thought it quite probable," he replied, humorously, caressing her face.

"Oh, honey, that's bullshit."

They both chuckled, thought Troy acted wounded.

"I was totally in love with you after that first day. You _know_ that. It was even in my wedding speech, which was said in from of Chad no less! I'll never live that down, and it was all for you!"

Gabriella smiled softly at Troy's dark figure, finding herself running a nail up the thick vein the protruded all the way up his forearm and his strong, thick bicep muscle. "I know..." She neared him and kissed him softly and sensually on his cheekbone. "And I love you even more for it." She began to lean over him, her long hair tickling his pecs deliciously. "You know..." she began, teasingly. "Thinking about it...makes me want to..._do_ more...for you." She began to drop kisses down his throat and sternum, slow and tender, and Troy suddenly left all the blood in him rage south as his penis began to salute her, standing to attention almost painfully.

"You already do..." he grunted, feeling her hot breath on his solid abdominal muscles, just before she began kissing the 'V' of his hips. "You're...everything..."

Soon enough, they were kissing passionately, hands softly curling into hair. Troy let his hands caress her in all the right places, making her body arch against him. They rolled so Troy laid over her, and suddenly, as the room began to light with the impending sunrise, he could see the same old anxiety in her eyes of her broken, nineteen year old self.

"He's not here, baby," he whispered against her neck. "It's just me."

"I know, I just––"

"––Shh, it's okay. I had no idea it was this bad tonight. Just tell me if you want to stop, okay?"

Gabriella's eyes were slightly glassed over as she kissed him gently, craning her neck to meet him. "I won't... I love you, Troy, so much. You're so good to me."

"Oh, baby," he breathed as he kissed her with equal vigor again, reaching to align his body with hers. Usually, foreplay would be engaged in before this stage, but at this moment, Troy knew what they both needed; to be together, in every way. To feel the certainty of their intimacy.

After dipping his fingers into her to test her arousal––something he always did since she had been a sexual assault victim, he always liked to be sure she was comfortable––then, satisfied with how wet she felt, gently, inch by inch, he filled her, watching her face change from on of anxiety to calm and serenity.

"Oh, _god," _she whimpered as he filled her to the hilt, in time with his guttural groan. As he began to move, he watched her face, feeling her skin flush and hot against his own, her whimpers of pleasure filling his ears.

"I...love...y-you..." she breathed disjointedly, feeling herself rising already, her body had been already so bound with tension that she needed this release almost more than her next breath.

"I'm yours, baby," he grunted, kissing her face over and over while stroking her thigh and thumbing her nipple. "Forever."

"Ohh..." She groaned, slamming her eyes shut as she searched desperately for the release and solace she needed, only to begin to be interrupted by unwelcome beginnings of flashbacks of that night six years ago... _Prickling heat. Rough, uncaring hands. Haunting, rough, delusional voice. The ripping of her knickers from under her dress. Impaling her body with_ _His_... _'Dirty, fucking bitch. Slut...' No._

"No, no..." she whimpered, gripping Troy's shoulders tightly, to remind herself that he was real. _Troy _was her. _Troy _was real. Nothing else.

Troy slowed, kissing her clenched eyelids, resting his cheek against hers. "Open your eyes, baby," he whispered above her. He felt her body suddenly tensing, locking the world out as she fought an intense internal battle. He had seen it all before. "Baby, it's alright. It's me: Troy. The pain isn't real. Can't you feel me inside you, how _good _it feels? _That's_ real_, _baby_._ It's just me."

She whimpered his name, and he could sense her need. He was beginning to break through to her. He rolled them over so that she was on top of him, pushing her to sit up, and then he sat up to. The feeling of penetration was so much deeper this way, a position preferred by the two of them. She sat, straddling his lap, his penis inside her, and he held her, his lips against the dip of her chin. The two were eye to eye, chest to chest, skin to skin. Troy softly kissed her, holding her upright with his strong arms around her back, biting back a groan and the innate urges within him that told him to pound into her. She was so warm and tight and soft, delicate and lovely. The most precious unison between man and wife. _This_. _This_ was bliss.

"Come back to me, Gabriella," he whispered as he thrust back into her gently, rotating his hips. "Listen to me, Mrs Gabriella Bolton. You _are _loved, and you _are _everything to me. He did not break you. Ever since the first time we made love, the first time I ever had the privilege of being inside you, I have craved you in ways you cannot imagine, because, this intimacy we have is something he can never take away. He can never take me from you, or you from me. What we have is the real thing, Gabriella... I love you more than the earth loves the sun and the eye loves the stars," he whispered, and he watched her eyes begin to water, however he wasn't sure if it was due to emotion or impending orgasm. She swallowed, remembering him saying those very words to her years ago, in his treehouse, when she first met his family, and then, remembering the wedding gift he had given her; a delicate necklace with a tiny silver earth partnered with a tiny golden sun, and a tiny silver eye, and a tiny golden star, that lay at her throat between them. He had loved her then, and he loved her now, despite all her baggage and slight neediness.

God, she loved him so much. He was her protector, and though sometimes she felt slightly stifled by his need to keep her safe, particularly with other men around, she was forever grateful for him. He had saved her in her darkest moment.

She opened her eyes while she forehead rested against his, nodding to demonstrate to him she was okay now. Their eyes stared, unfocused, into that of the other. Too breathless to kiss, they panted at their movements and thrusts intensified, Gabriella groaning and muttering utterances of unconditional love for him repeatedly as she fought her impending pleasure. No, it couldn't be over yet. Not yet. This was too precious.

"Troy..." she panted, feeling him lifting her tired body up and down to meet his thrusts. The sheen of sweat on their skin.

"Let go, Gabriella," Troy grounded out through gritted teeth, so close to release he had to draw himself back.

"I...can-n-n't..._oh, Troy..." _

"_Yes, you can." _He leant his head down and captured her jiggling breast in his mouth, sucking hard on her puffy, swollen nipple, while simultaneously rubbed her nub furiously just above their joining. He felt her tighten and moisten impossibly around him, and he groaned loudly. "Come _on, _baby. Feel me inside you, baby. Feel how deep I am, making love to you. I love you, baby." He caught her eye, simultaneously squeezing her nipple. "Let go." He began to thrust harder, while still maintaining the feeling of intimacy, their eye contact never breaking.

"Oh, Troy," Gabriella sobbed throatily, her voice rasping, unable to keep her emotions at bay. Somewhere during his speaking, she lost herself, her back arching on impulse and her toes curled painfully and her nails dug into his back.

"C'mon. Gab-ri-el-la._ Gab-ri-el-la!" _he grunted speedily in time with his thrusts, knowing he simply needed her release to set of his own.

"_Oh..m-my...Troy...Troyyy! _Oh_, shit! Ah! Oh, _I love you! _Ah!" _Her muscles clenched and pulsed around him as she let out a wail of pleasure and release with a mournful sob. There was a fine line between pain and pleasure, and sometimes, as Troy knew from his won experiences with this women, they can seem one and the same. She covered her face with her forearms as she gripped her own hair, and he could see tears falling down as she shook violently, her entire body pulsating and shuddering for minutes in post-orgasmic waves, unintelligible stutters escaping her lips.

He groaned as he emptied his seed into her moments later when she bit into his shoulder to try and keep her wails at bay, gripping her sweaty body against his equally sweaty chest, curling his arms around her. It was only then that he felt how severely they were both trembling from their release, but also due to tears. She was crying into his neck, her breathing high in pitch and laboured, the only sound in the room their frantic breathing and her quiet whimpers. He nuzzled his face into her neck in return, frantically planting kisses there in reassurance that it was okay to cry. Feeling the euphoric effects of post-sex endorphins spread through his body, Troy whispered his undying love for the beautiful, brave, nude woman against him, over and over, remaining clinging to one another as if they were each others' lifelines, their bodies still connected.

"Thank you for saving me... You're always saving me... You're everything... You're everything." she sobbed almost unintelligibly against him as he stroked her back. He swallowed his own emotion, though in his mind he felt a familiar sense of worry niggling at him. This level of anxiety and emotion had not been this high in his wife in a long time. What was going on?

"Always, my love. Always."

_"Hello? Earth to Gabriella?"_

_What?_

"Gabriella?!"

Suddenly Gabriella snapped out of her reverie of a few nights ago and back to a completely different place. She _wasn't_ in her master bedroom in California with her husband; she was at his _parents_ house in Albuquerque, days later, for Thanksgiving weekend. Suddenly, reality all came back to her.

She had a speech to give at the Women's Protection Institute gala tonight, which Lucille was patron of, after years of work with a women's refuge centre, and then it was going to be thanksgiving...and if all that was not enough to frazzle her...she was pretty sure something regarding her health was not quite right. She had shook it off when Troy had asked, claiming it just to be down to stress, but she knew better. If the symptoms weren't enough, sometimes a woman just knew.

"Sorry, Taylor... God, I can't look," Gabriella gasped breathlessly, leaning against the guest bathroom sink. Everyone else had gone out; Troy was at a U of A game with his dad and Chad, and Lucille was out getting food. Gabriella had made excuses about not feeling well to Lucille once Troy had gone so that she and Taylor could be alone. She had to be sure.

"Do you want _me_ to?"

Gabriella nodded frantically, a hand grasped over her stomach.

It seemed like a millennium while Taylor surveyed all three pregnancy tests. How had this happened? They had barely been married two years. Though they had known each other for years longer than that, they still barely knew each other! Gabriella felt her heart beginning to race. What kind of a mother could she possibly be, when she couldn't even contain her own mind; her _own_ nightmares. She was woman in many ways but barely in others. How would this work? She and Troy had spoken vaguely of children, but had both agreed they should wait until Troy's junior rotation had ended so they his work schedule would be much less frantic. But now? Now, they may not even have a choice... God, Troy was going to be so disappointed in her. She had been taking the pill. How did this happen? Had to missed one? Did it just not work?

"Two are positive," Taylor finally said, looking cautiously at her friend, who was looking particularly pale.

"What?"

"Two of the tests. They're positive."

"P-positive?!" Gabriella began to feel panic take hold. _Oh no._

_ "Gabi," _Taylor murmured, slowly.

"No, no..." she choked, almost oblivious to her friends presence.

"How do you feel about that?"

Gabriella breathed heavily, easing herself down to the floor, leaning against the sink. She didn't answer.

"Gabi? You're married. It's not as if he just knocked you up. Why is this such a scare for you?"

Gabriella held her face in hands, feeling something close to terror washing over her. What if Troy didn't want this? What then? She wouldn't be able to cope without him. She was in _his_ country, around _his_ friends and _his_ family. Her mother was miles and miles away in Southern California. She was English. She was sarcastic and didn't find Saturday Night Live the slightest bit funny. Without him she did not belong here. She was nothing without him.

"He won't want this," she murmured almost deliriously, feeling her heart rate climbing. "I can't be having a baby. I can't."

Taylor watched her friend worried. "Gabi. You need to make sure you stay calm."

"St-st-stay..._calm?" _Gabriella stared wide eyed at her friend. "_Calm?! _What kind of mother could I ever, _ever _be, Tay?" Tears began to fall unchecked from her eyes. "I'm a rape victim! I'm terrified of the dark, of clubs and pounding music. I still have nightmares that even _Troy_ struggles to wake me from, I can barely take care of _myself _on bad days, and to top it all off, I've been married less than two years! We're not ready. I'm not––" She gasped, cupping her throat desperately.

"Gabi, honey, you have to _calm. Down," _Taylor began, only Gabriella barely heard her. What she _did _hear, however, seconds later, was the sound of a car in the driveway.

"They men are back," Taylor informed having peeked out the window.

Gabriella gasped instantly, watching as the world seemed to begin going fuzzy at the edges. If she had been at all compos mentis right now, she would have cursed herself for taking so long to pluck up the courage to tell Taylor about her suspected pregnancy while the men had been at the game. Then, at least, she could have maybe had more time to talk about it with her friend before she had to face Troy. "No, no, _no_..." she repeated in a delirious blur, starring at her African-American friend in sheer panic. "What do I _do_––" She tried to breath in a deep breath, but it wouldn't come. The tears, however, seemed to be in no short supply, and kept falling, leaving her vision blurred. "I can't...I _can't. _He's going to––"

"Gabi!" Taylor exclaimed in a whisper, pulling her friend into a quick hug. "Gabi. You are letting your constant fear of losing Troy cloud the truth here. Troy wouldn't ever leave you, and I know you know that." Taylor took a cautious step towards the door, and Gabriella shook her head as a sob escaped. "I'm going to go and get him, alright?"

"No, Tay, _pl-e-ea-se_––" she stuttered through her quiet sobs, through she knew her friend could not be swayed as she watched her go.

_Please don't leave me, _she felt herself whimpering, curling her arms around herself, trying desperately to find her pulse at her tattooed wrist, but she couldn't.

_"Gabriella?!" _she heard Troy call from down the hall, his voice, she could tell, we trying to shield a sense of panic from being heard. No doubt whatever Taylor had said for him to come upstairs for had set his imagination haywire.

In a second he was at the guest bathroom door, and for a moment, Gabriella felt a sense of serenity and calm wash over her, purely at the sight of him. He was wearing the old red hawks jacket that his dad used to wear, and a plain crew t-shirt, but both molded to his fine, muscular physique he maintained. His brown hair was slightly darker than it used to be, though the sun-bleached highlights remained. It was shorter than it had been when she met him, though still keeping his longer bangs that she loved to run her fingers through. These days though, he tended to opt for an slight dark stubble along his upper lip and along his jaw, and hair shorter at the sides and back. Either way, his cobalt, cyan, _mesmorising_ eyes still possessed every hypnotising power over her that they always had, contrasting almost tragically with his golden skin and dark hair. His cargo shorts cut off at the knee, displaying his athletic shins, calfs and ankles, and the dark masculine hair that grew there. His emotive, kind, _beautiful_ face was tense with worry, his hair everywhere, no doubt from where he grasped it in frustration while watching the basketball game; his cheeks the tiniest bit flushed. All salvia suddenly left her mouth, though her tears carried on, and her breathing was still laboured as she continued to sob. _How could _she_ ever keep someone like him? _

"Gabriella!" he exclaimed, surprised, seconds after he spotted her in the corner of the bathroom, shaking like a leaf. "Baby, what––" He slid his hands over her arms and legs subtly, checking for any signs of injury. "What is it? What happened?"

Gabriella shook her head and tried to push him away; his hands reminding her already of what she had to lose if he got scared and ran once he found out. _How _had she missed a pill? What a _stupid _girl.

"Gabi, sweetheart, what is it?" he asked again, this time his tone with slightly hurt at her rejection of his tender offerings of comfort. Worried caused his brow to form a 'V,' and Gabriella felt a pang at her heart as she realised that in any other situation, she would have leant up to kiss it away. "Tell me. What's going on?"

Gabriella, trembling, shook her head in refusal. "You'll... I c-can't..."

"I'll _what, _Gabi? What is it? You're scaring me."

She continued to shake her head, cowering in the corner, and Troy felt his upper lip begin to sweat with anxiety.

"Please...don't..." he had to strain to hear her whimpers.

"Come on, baby, _breathe," _he admonished desperately from in front of her, feeling helpless.

"Plea-ase d-don't hate me."

"I could never hate you, baby. Please _breathe_ for me." Troy felt his heart plummet as his hand tightened around her calf gently. "Gabi, what––"

He didn't finish, as he suddenly noticed the white sticks with distinctive blue tips that lay on the bathroom sink by his head. Gabriella watched him reach for them, noting his hands were suddenly trembling.

"Are they––Are _you_––You're––" Troy stared at the tests, and then at her, with an expression she couldn't read, and she cowered further away from him in shame of her own inability to control her own body.

"I'm so s-sor-ry, Tr-o-oy," she sobbed into her hands, as she couldn't bare to look at him any longer. This was it. He was going to leave. She'd lost him. "I must have missed a p-pill, and I-I... I just..."

Troy stared at her sobbed figure with a feeling of bewilderment. If he hadn't been so worried or hurt by her fear of him, he would probably have laughed. How had he not seen this? He was a _doctor, _for gods sake! Oh the _irony_!

"_Oh," _Troy gasped in realisation. "You're _pregnant?"_ He smacked himself on the forehead. Suddenly, her symptoms seemed all too obvious. "Shit, why didn't I see that?"

Confused, she peeked out the curtain of dark curls around her face. "You're not mad?"

"_Mad_?" Troy shook his head disbelievingly, crawling quickly to her side, grasping her face in his hands, wiping tears way with the pads of his thumbs. "Baby, it's not your fault."

"I'm so stupid," she fretted. "I must have missed––"

"––_Just_ because you got pregnant, doesn't mean you missed a pill, honey." He cocked his head slowly, in a very 'understanding medical professional' type manner, leaning to kiss her hand and her wedding ring. "Sometimes, these things just don't work right."

Gabriella sighed shakily, her breath faltering due to her earlier tears. "Oh yeah," she sneered without humour. "The point naught, naught one of a per cent. Right."

Troy cupped his wife at the side of neck, simply watching her expressions change.

"So..." She finally met his eyes, causing him to smile involuntarily. "What happens now?"

Troy shifted to hold her against his body, taking most her weight off the cold, hard tiles. "Well..." Were they ready for babies? No... but they would make it work. After all, they had made the baby through making love, which was always the most precious moment in the world, so what could be possibly frightening about that? It was just a baby. A little baby. Half Gabriella, half himself... Half _Gabriella_. This thought warmed him all over. Hopefully the baby would be a miniature version of her. That would be perfect. "I'm thinking...that there is nothing I would like more in this world than to grow old with you. The very idea that _you..._" He let his eyes wonder over her body; a wonderland he had had the honour of being allowed to get to know better than his own. He felt her shudder under his gaze, to which he grinned wickedly before returning his gaze and hands to her face. "...are carrying my baby right now... Gabriella, I..." She watched his gaze suddenly turn soft and glassy, as he frowned slightly, as if fighting some primal need. She felt his hand trace the slither of skin of her abdomen visible at the base of her t-shirt. "It beguiles me. _You _beguile me."

Gabriella felt overwhelming emotion threaten again at the sight of him so close to tears. She reached up and threaded her fingers into his head, to which he groaned breathlessly and replied with a delicate kiss to her exposed wrist in from of his face.

"Do you want this?" He asked in a small, vulnerable voice that made Gabriella want to cry all the more.

"Yes," she sobbed without hesitation. "I was just so frightened it would upset you...that you wouldn't want this...and that I, well, what kind of parent could _I _be...and I still am afraid. What kind of mother could I be? And with the _nightmares, _too! Oh, _Troy_––"

"Everyone knows how you adore babies, sweetheart... and this baby will be so loved by all of us. That's all that matters. As for the other stuff, baby, we're all here for you. You know that. There will be bad days, but Gabi, _god _there'll be good days; days when you wonder what you ever did before..." She cuddled against him, doubt still visible in her posture. "And hey," he called, grasping her chin gently, resting his forehead against hers. "I'll be here, forever; you know that. I'm not going anywhere."

"You sure you want to have a baby with..." she trailed off, not sure how to phrase her insecurities.

"Gabriella, I am in love with you, and have been for a long, _long _time. You're everything. It will be my honour to have babies with you. I not going anywhere," he repeated.

"My husband; as consistent as the sun," she whispered, leaning up to kiss him gratefully, feeling all anxiety begin to melt away, giddiness taking its place. She was going to be a mum. A mum! "Bright...warm...beautiful..." He flushed in one of his adorable faint blushes, and she grinned. "Troy," she whispered, gripped her hands in his wayward locks. "You're going to be a dad. A _daddy_."

Troy felt his chest rise and fall sharply. Hearing it out loud had to be one of the most frightening yet exhilarating experiences of his life, kind of like saying wedding vows or a wedding speech in front of a hall full of people. It was only now he realised he was biting back tears.

"And you're going to be a _mummy_," he whispered against her cheek, kissing her there multiple times with loving tenderness. She giggled at his use of her home British colloquialism, _Mum _instead of _Mom_. He always tried to imitate her accent whenever he said it, as he said it was his way of encouraging her accent to remain. He didn't want his to rub off her. Her 'English-ness,' as he so called it, was something he loved the most.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she gasped happily, looking down at her abdomen. As they sat more upright, Troy suddenly shuffled, lowering his face to become level with her stomach. To Gabriella's delight, he leant in and kissed her there, nuzzling her, multiple times, the touches delicate and slow and loving, as though the muscle and skin tissue of her abdomen were not shielding him from their unborn child.

"Hey there, little one," he uttered softly to her stomach. "I'm your daddy." He stroked a thumb down her protruding hip bone, feeling a great primal sense of protectiveness surge through him. "Your _beautiful_ mummy is going to care for you, and daddy will care of you both, okay?" He glanced up at Gabriella finding his unshed tears mirrored in her own glassy eyes. "We love you, baby Bolton, _so much_."

"Yes," she whispered, pulling his face to hers desperately, keeping a hand over his large warm one laying protectively over their baby in between their bodies, their wedding rings touching, feeling tears on his face that matched her own. "Yes, Baby Bolton, we do."

❝~x~❞

"I think I'm going to throw up," Gabriella choked in a whisper, tightening her death grip on her husband's hand and strong forearm. Troy let his gaze wonder over her where she stood beside him, in a beautiful red dress that would challenge any beauty queen or movie star. In fact, it reminded him much of _that _red dress Julia Roberts wore in 'Pretty Woman.' Off the shoulder straps, showing slight cleavage, flow down to the floor in flowing chiffon. Contrasting with her dark ebony curls, styled in a half up 'do, with a few loose curls falling down aside her face, with dark lashes that fanned across her cheeks and lined eyes, and deep lipstick that matched her dress. Her breasts rose and fell with her increasing breaths, and he watched her wring her hands and swallow frantically. To him, even when frantic, she was heavenly.

"It's okay, baby," he whispered back. "You're gonna' be great."

He watched her read over her speech over and over. She had been nominated to speak as the story of her sexual assault ordeal got around the S.A.F.E Women's Protection Organisation in Albuquerque, which his mother Lucille had been a strong part of for a long time, long before Gabriella had even met him. After obtaining her visa, she and Troy remained in Alberquerque for a while while Gabriella attended special sessions for assault victims at the women's S.A.F.E centre that Lucille helped to run. It did her so much good, she was seen to have made the fastest improvement out of all those counseling group, and for this both she and Troy were eternally grateful. The S.A.F.E houses had begun to open all over the state, having expanded throughout the rest of the US. As a result of this expansion, the organsation was bringing together some of its rape victims from each clinic area who they felt had a story that needed to be shared, and who had demonstrated great courage. Having been a very successful case at the main Albuquerque clinic in the state of New Mexico, and having also donated a large portion of the money she inherited after her grandmother's death a few years back to the foundation, while also fighting for assault victims with her law firm on a day to day basis, it appeared that Gabriella had gotten S.A.F.E's attention. As here she stood at the New Mexico S.A.F.E gala, that aimed to raise money to help more assault victims, about to give a speech from a British immigrants perspective, and she was terrified.

"_Christ_, why did I say I'd do this?"

"Because you are strong, and you can do anything," came Troy's whispered reply before he kissed her forehead tenderly.

"God, Oh, _god_."

"_Hey_, take it easy, remember," he whispered in her ear, drawing her into a hug, subtly carressing her stomach. "For _both _of you," he winked. As he took steps back towards his seat, he turned back to her and exaggerated a deep breath, tapping his wrist in reminder that if she should panic, to find her pulse and take deep breaths, as they had always practiced.

She nodded distractedly, before changing her mind, quickly running to him and kissing him to try and will away the nerves. When she pulled back, he had traces of her lipstick on his lips, making her giggle.

"Wish me luck, I guess..."

Troy kissed both her hands and both her cheeks. "Good luck, my darling Mrs Bolton. I love you."

Minutes later, Gabriella heard her name being called from the stage, and she felt her throat dry. She was so nervous she couldn't even remember how she got to the microphone podium, or how she managed to get there without falling flat on her face. She felt her heart hammering, but as she opened her mouth, she caught her husband's intense cyan eye, at a table not too far from the front, smiling at her with pride and encouragement, then the eyes of many women around the room whom she recognised from her therapy sessions years ago, and many of whom she didn't. Feeling strength in Troy's gaze, she suddenly felt like she had wind under her wings, and took a real deep breath. She paused, then finally spoke.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests. I would like to thank S.A.F.E New Mexico for honouring me by asking me to speak today..." She looked up, trying not to pay attention to faces, as to not begin panicking. "As you can probably tell, I'm not from around here." There was a rumble of chuckles. "That obvious, huh?" More chuckles. She suppressed a smile. "I was nineteen years old when I first attended a S.A.F.E counseling meeting, after traveling to this country with an American doctor I met in my home city of London." She flashed a quick glance to Troy. "That doctor was _the_ kindest, most compassionate man I had ever met, and though he only treated me for ten minutes or so, as his shift ended, he showed complete dedication in caring for a terrified, broken young teenage girl who had no one. After what had happened to me that night, I was terrified of all men and their touch, and yet that doctor understood, and he stayed with me in the Emergency Department, all night long, even though he had just finished a ten hour shift, when I felt most alone in the world." She took a breath. "That doctor... is now my husband." She now made a very obvious move to look right at him, grinning as she saw Lucille gripping his bicep happily. "They always did say he had a miracle bedside manner," she joked, and again, there were chuckles, with Troy, though blushing bashfully, was laughing to. She swallowed. Now for the hard part. "If it hadn't have been for Troy, for the support of his family and everyone at the S.A.F.E centre in Albuquerque...I don't think I would be here today." She felt her airway tighten, so she quickly glanced down at the tattoo of Troy's thumbprint on her left wrist. _Breathe. _

"I feel like sometimes the world sugar coats things too much to hide the fact that such atrocities still happen, even in this day and age, so here's how it is..."

She looked up at the men in the room particularly for this part, hoping to hit home to them as much as the women. "When I was nineteen, I was dragged into a back room of club by a man I had never met, though knew the existence of, from my university...and I was raped. I was a virgin, dressed up to look like I fitted in with my friends who made a talent of picking up guys, and I was flattered by the fact this man was flirting with _me _and not my pretty friends, as I had never been flirted with before... so I let him carry on, even though, now I look back, I'm pretty sure I did not fancy him much at all." She felt the silence of the room surround her, feeling all ears pricking with a much higher level of interest...or perhaps it was sympathy...or empathy. "To cut a long story relatively short, he seemed to have gotten a vibe from me that wasn't really there, which resulted in me being left with my favourite dress ripped and without my underwear, on the floor of a nightclub back room, wishing God would take me from this earth right then and there... I eventually found, miraculously, my own way to the hospital, as I knew there was one not too far away, as this was my home. I was treated at the hospital for any physical injuries, but none of them were nearly as deep or wounding as the psychological scars I still bare to this day. I moved to the USA to get away from the daily reminders that accompanied me by still living in London, as I knew I needed time to heal... Little did I realise that I would soon find love in my new friend and protector, and so would never to go home again... When I moved here,_ 'S.A.F.E_' helped me to really be at peace with these wounds that none of us, not even the apparently miraculous Dr Troy Bolton, who was simply my boyfriend then, could fix." She looked up into the faces of the women she could see around the room, seeing understanding in many of their eyes. "For a long time, I believed what happened to me was somehow deserved; that I must have been egging on the man who did this; that he was not to blame, but _I_ was... There are those who will agree with this view; that will say that nineteen year old girls who go out to party with their friends in short dresses on a night out are 'asking for it'... To those people, I say, well... _How_ do I explain this to you?

"How do I explain...the reality of living in a world where the first time someone pulls your legs; apart, they may not ask you for permission... That there may not even be any words at all. That it will hurt and you will close your eyes, and the stars will not glide across the sky above you..." She looked up a tear softly fell from her eye silently. "and you might want to die." She sniffed, thumbing the Troy's thumbprint on her wrist where her hands rested on he podium. "The backs of your knees will be sore, from being pressed up against the rough, seat of the car, or against a wall, or on the solid ground... It will be fast. It will not be tender, your wrists will crack under his pressure, and like this you will feel like you will remain forever... like an insect in a glass case. He may never touch your face. There will be no apology, no glances in your direction." Gabriella wiped a tear, fighting with even breaths the flashbacks that were pushing at her mental blockages. "Then he finishes, he will zip up his jeans, and he will shut the door behind him... And how never during any of that, are there words exchanged to do with outfits or party dresses, or chances to, so-called, '_ask for it.'_

"This is why, when completing my law degree, I found it incredibly integral that I become a protector and fighter for other women like me, as there are so many who are not as lucky as I have been, but deserve all the help in the world...

"So to all of those like me, I say this: if you listen to one thing tonight, it is that_ that _night, or _day_, or _morning _that _it_ happened may have been your first time; it may have been your third; it may have been your _tenth_, but no matter which one it is, know it is _not._ _right_. Rape is a violation of what is _yours_. _This_, is wrong." She caught the eye of a young girl who could not be older than she had been on the night she was assaulted, sat at the front table, and she subtly smiled at her. "This is _your_ body. These are _your_ words, and _no one_ has the power, to do this to you." She held up her chin defiantly, feeling her tears disappear. "So, tonight, if and when _He_ visits you in your sleep, or in an episode at the supermarket, or when you're in lovers bed; I challenge you to look him in the eye, hold up your chin, and tell him five words: _You. will not. ruin. me_...

"Because the moon will still rise in the sky, and the pine trees will still lose their needles. Winter will still come. The sheets on your bed will remain tangled, just as love will still be love and poetry will still be poetry." She gazed out into the sea of faces and swallowed once me. "Just as _you..._ will survive this. Do not let him ruin you." She left a silence, looking up from her paper, disregarding it. "...because there _are_ people who _love_ you," she paused to glance briefly at the table where her family and friends sat, "like the earth loves the sun and the eye loves the stars." Catching Troy's eye, she could see them shining with tears he was trying to swallow, and beside him, Lucille was freely crying silently, holding her sons hand in one and her husbands in the other. Her friends looked emotional also, and she fought to look away before she broke and ran to them. "And, finally; I simply have only five more words for you..." She smiled out at the strong women in front of her, subtly, caressing her abdomen, where Troy's unborn child secretly lay, the rest of the world oblivious. Suddenly, she felt stronger than ever before, feeling a wave as great happiness at her prospective future run through her. "This...is just the start."

She looked up, picking up her cue cards she barely used at all.

_Thank goodness. _she sighed to herself. _It was over. _

"Thank you."

It took less than a second before something extraordinary happened. Gabriella was greeted by a wall of sound so loud she had to fight the urge in the beautifully decorated hall to hold her hands over her ears. She looked down to her left and her entire party was standing, clapping enthusiastically, while trying to wipe away their tears. Though, only one member of that table had her attention. Troy, along with the rest of the hall, gave her a standing ovation, only, she began to crying again at the sight of him standing with tears streaming down his cheeks, making no attempt to stop them. She found herself being thanked by one of the trusts patriots, a kind elder woman, who hugged her and smelt of Chanel, just like her mum did, but again, all this was a blur. It wasn't until Troy stepped out from his seat and forward to help her down the steps in her heels, taking her hand, that she suddenly felt aware again. At the bottom of the steps, he took her into his arms, squeezing her in a bear hug that, she couldn't help but note, her broken nineteen year old self would have hardly been able to bare. He had his face buried into her neck and she did into his, and she felt a felt tears hit her skin.

"Oh, Gabriella," he breathed into her hair, and she could have sworn she heard a gentle sob. "I love you, Mrs Bolton," he whispered tearfully, squeezing her tightly, though not pressing his stomach into hers. He kissed her repeatedly on the temple without withdrawing his arms from her. "_So much. _I am so proud of you._"_

Gently wiping a falling tear from his eye, to which he replied by doing the same to her, she giggled tearfully. "I love you too," leaning back to wipe both his cheeks with her thumbs simultaneously, almost like a mother would, "you big wuss."

❝~x~❞

"Okay, everyone! Food is ready!" Gabriella heard Lucille call from the Bolton kitchen. Gabriella gulped in some final breaths of fresh air as she at on the decking on the Bolton lawn. She hadn't been able to sit in the house any longer with smell of cooking and poultry, but now she knew she would have to go back in and...eat it. The last thing she wanted was to offend Lucille...

"Gabriella, honey," Troy called softy from the doorway. "Are you alright?"

She nudged her head, indicating for him to shut the door behind him. He did so, walking over to the love seat to sit beside her, resting a hand on her thigh.

"It's just the smell," she shook her head, wrinkling her nose at the very thought. "Turkey..." she shuddered.

"I see the nausea and hyper-sensitivity to aromas have started," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her head delicately. She dropped her head into his shoulder, nodding somewhat miserably against his collarbone. "Sorry I can't do much, baby."

She wrinkled up her nose. "Don't be silly. Stop apologising."

"Sorry," he murmured automatically, only to then realise again what he'd said, causing them both to chuckle.

"Oh, I love you," she sighed at his ways, curling further into his warm chest, feeling content and protected.

"That's because I'm just so lovable." That earned him an elbow in the ribs. "I love you too, sweetheart," he murmured with a chuckle, sweeping tiny hairs from her face and kissing her hairline over and over.

"I know," she smiled happily, toying with her necklace that reminded her of his love on a day to day basis. He reached for her hand, turning it over and kissing the inside of her wrist where his thumb print was tattooed with such gentleness, she could have been make of butterfly wings.

There was a slight 'V' between her eyes when he looked up, causing him to sit up and frame her face with his hands. "What's on that beautiful, incredible mind of yours?"

"It's nothing––"

"_Gabriella_," he halted her in a gentle warning. "With you, it's never nothing."

"I..." She looked away from his eyes, but he simply dipped her gaze to meet hers again, keeping a tight hold on her face so she couldn't avoid him.

"What is it?"

"What happens if we have a girl, Troy?"

Troy frowned in confusion. What a random topic to be on her mind...and what a strange thing to worry about... Surely she didn't mean...

"What do you mean 'what happens?' Sweetheart, I'm confused."

She rolled her eyes then, and he noted how they were suddenly glassy as she pulled away from him and stood up, walking away to look up at the evening sky.

"What the hell are we going to do if we have a little girl, Troy? Don't tell me you haven't thought about it a million times or two since the gala the other day. All those girls, all those women, all brutally raped by men. It happens far too often than we care to admit in every part of the world, but even more so than we care to admit: it's happening _around_ us. What... Knowing what we know... Having..._lived_ what I have lived..what _we _have lived..."

Troy walked toward her, feeling his heart aching. He knew, now he thought about it, exactly what she meant. She was right, too; he had thought about it a lot as he had sat there watching Gabriella speak, and for hours after. Though rape was not something purely experienced by women, men were the overwhelming majority when it came to who committed the assault. There must have been _so _many who did it, and so many who did it and the women never, ever told... It made him sick to his very core, and the idea that a little girl of his, a little girl looking like a tiny version of his beautiful Gabriella, could be brought up in a world where such monstrosities of mankind were commonplace... He was pretty sure he would die of a heart attack before his daughter's fifteenth birthday, at that rate. Gabriella was right in many respects, having experienced the horrors of rape herself, and with him alongside her to experience it throughout her entire journey, it would be a serious uphill battle for the both of them. Protective would not even compare to how Troy felt about his wife and unborn child, even now, without knowing its gender. He had no idea, in truth, how he was going to cope.

"I know, baby," he sighed, sadly, pulling her into his side. "You're right. It worries me. I have thought about it, a lot, wondering if we have a daughter how on earth I will survive without dying of a coronary when she begins to grow up wants to go out...and with _boys..._" He released a breath that sounded pained. "_God."_

_ "Shh," _she soothed him, turning on her feet to curl into his chest and run her knuckles rhythmically along his back. "I know. I feel the same."

"Yeah, but, I'm the dad. I'm the one who;s meant to protect both of you, and how the hell is she going to feel when she finds out I couldn't even protect _you _from the world, never mind her... I'll probably become one of those suffocating fathers, and she'll going to hate me,_" _he murmured miserably, staring at the sky above them.

"No, she won't, Troy. We'll make her understand."

He ran his hand rhythmically across her back.

"But how? You know yourself, Gabriella, that anything your parents drill into you you grow to rebel against until you learn lessons your own way and make your own mistakes..." He looked down at his wife before pulling her even tighter against him, his strong arms around her and she hugged him back. He sniffed, feeling inward tormented by his worries. "I can't let her learn such a cruel lesson as you did." He was almost whispering now, his voice thick with emotion. "Not her too."

"I get it, Troy, I get it," she whispered softly in response, squeezing his waist in support. "All we can do is try our best. We can't wrap her, _if _the baby even is a her, in cotton wool. That will most likely, as you said, make matters worse..."

Troy swallowed desperately to rid his voice of heavy emotion. "I sure hope you're right, baby." He pulled back, but let his large hands hold her at the hips, feeling the strength yet gentle nature of her protruding hipbones and pelvic. It boggled him that inside her, right now, was a uterus preparing to hold their baby for the next however many months. (They had yet to visit a doctor to find out how far along she was.) He tried not to think too hard about the fact their baby was inside her, the size of a walnut, right now, as the whole idea threatened to overwhelm him with emotion.

"What?" she whispered as he gazed at her, looking dumbfounded.

"I can't...explain how happy I am to be here with you, for you to be carrying my child..._Our child."_

She leant up, cupping his strong, square jaw and kissed him fiercely, feeling him cradle her head, his fingers in her curls. He pulled back with a look of pure contentment, dropping a gentle hand to her stomach.

"If there is a little girl in there... We'll teach her about what happened to her mummy, when the time is right, and she'll be sensible..._and _always carry pepper spray in her underwear."

Gabriella let out a tiny giggle, thinking back to her assault. If felt strange to think back on it and not be so afraid. "Yes, that would have been useful, wouldn't it?"

"And if we have a boy... I'll make sure he will never, _ever _take advantage of a woman in his life." He leant down and swiftly planted and strong kiss on her forehead. "He'll be very protective of his Momma, that you can be sure," he murmured with a soft, affectionate smile at the idea. Gabriella grinned back, loving the American term coming from his lips. (It was one she happened to know he still used when speaking with his own mother.)

"_Kids!" _came Lucille's voice from the door, causing them to fall slightly apart and Troy's hand to fall back to his side. "You coming in for food? It's getting cold."

"Sure, Ma," he called, leaning down to Gabriella to whisper in her ear. "I say we tell them now."

Gabriella's gaze snapped to Troy's lovely face, which he could barely contain. A smile was splitting across it like a toddler on Christmas.

"Okay... At east then she won't be offended if I don't eat..." she paused to refrain from gagging, "the turkey."

Troy chuckled, pulling her into his side as they walking inside his childhood home, an arm over her shoulders. He surveyed the dining room as his mother and father teased each other, his best friends Chad and Taylor, now engaged themselves, bickered like they had been married for years, and his grandma and grandpa cooed over how beautful Gabriella was..._again..._and it suddenly hit him how at home Gabriella looked, how she fitted into this scene, how it felt as though the Thanksgiving scene from his teenage years had always had a piece missing and now he had found it. Gabriella had a placemat, thankfully, at the opposite end of the table as the turkey, and as he made his was around the table to make her up a plate, she protested.

"Troy, I was just about to––"

"I got it," he appeased happily, leaning to kiss her lightly on the cheek. "You go sit down."

She shook her head at him playfully, mouthing "Charmer,' before taking her seat, quickly joining conversation with Troy's grandmother. Once he had retrieved them both platefuls, both without turkey, he sat down beside her and grinned sideways at her when she thanked him with a kiss to his cheek.

"Okay, so, now everyone is sat down, lets share, this fine thanksgiving, what we're thankful for," Lucille announced happily. "I am thankful for this beautiful fall, my beautiful family, and that my beautiful daughter in law has stuck around with us crazies and made my son very happy. We're all very proud of you after the other night, honey," she said, warmly toward Gabriella, who blushed instantly.

"You're not crazier than my family," she argued timidly, letting out a giggle.

"Who's next?"

One by one, Troy and Gabriella watched as their family and friends announced all they were thankful for, and Troy could barely contain his jitters.

"Gabriella?" came Lucille's voice.

She swallowed, feeling her heart pick up. "I'm thankful to have such a supportive extended family for so _many _thanksgivings now. I'm thankful that you allow me to take part like this even though this isn't even a tradition where I'm from... I'm thankful for all the love I have felt over hard times from all of you." She turned subtly to Troy. "And I'm thankful, most of all, for this man." She ran her thumb down his cheek with for a moment. "He is the greatest husband I could have asked for. You should be so proud of the man you raised."

There was a mumble of _'here, here'_s, and it was Troy's turn to blush furiously, causing Gabriella to giggle. "Aw, thank you, honey," he whispered, kissing her cheek before standing and turning to his family. "I am thankful for many things that I should really state more often: how great it is to see you all, how great Mom's cooking is, the shear _size _of Chad's hair." The table all laughed, especially Chad. "But mostly, and I'm sorry to Chad who's gagging in the corner over there... but I'm thankful for the strong woman I was lucky enough to meet almost six years ago..." He looked over at Gabriella, who had traces of tears in her eyes. "You keep me sane and love even when I don't deserve it. You are the greatest _wife _I could have asked for..." He threw her a wink and took a deep breath. "I'm so thankful for all of you, but most of all, in these last few days, there has also been something else I am very much thankful for, and that something is the surprise, but the greatest surprises I could have asked for." He looked around at his family's bemused faces. "I'm thankful that, this time next year, there'll be...one more person at this table to be thankful for...though _they_..._won't_ be eating Mom's turkey."

Lucille suddenly shrieked in realisation, covering her mouth with instant tears filling her eyes. The rest of the table looked around frantically, beginning to put two and two together. Gabriella stood and Troy curled her into his side. Troy's father, Jack, forever obtuse, was frowning in shock with wide eyes.

"So _you're_...Gabriella's––"

"––Having a baby," Troy finished. "Yeah."

The table gasped and burst into congratulations, with Lucille practically throwing herself around the oblong table to embrace Gabriella and kiss both her cheeks, then doing the same to Troy.

"Oh, my boy," she cried, smoothing her hands down his chest as she pulled away and touched Gabriella's stomach. "My baby, having a baby."

"_Ma," _he groaned without irritation, smiling gleefully over at Gabriella as everyone hugged them both in turn.

"You _dog," _Chad chuckled good-naturedly, roughing Troy's hair before gripping him, his oldest friend, in a tight hug. "I'm really happy for you guys."

"Thanks, man," he replied, sniffing subtly to swallow his emotion. Chad caught his eye again in a moment of stillness.

"You'll make a great parent, Hoops. And Gabi, too." He cleared his throat. "I'm definitely going to be godfather, right?"

"No..." came a groan beside him, causing Troy to instantly leap up and turn on the bedside light. Was it time?

He looked beside him, running his hands gently over Gabriella's swollen form for any signs of wetness. There were none. He huffed out a breath he had been holding. No baby yet. She was heavily with child by now, laying on her side away from him, whimpering in her sleep. He had lost track of whether they were good, sexual dreams, or..._bad_ dreams. However, after many nights with her dreams getting wilder and wilder, he had now become the lightest of sleepers, forever worried that she was going to have a night-terror and hurt herself or their baby, or that he would mistake the sounds for a dream and it would actually be labour. However, for now, all was well. He tiredly turned off the light again, slipping his arms around her, pressing his flat hands at the base of her bare bump to take some of the baby's weight. He felt her sigh contently as he kissed her head lazily, his eyes drooping.

It wasn't time. Not yet.

❝~x~❞

Gabriella was waiting in line for her favourite take-away italian food when it happened. She was exhausted, granted, as she hadn't been sleeping much with the movements of the baby, but she looked up, and she could have sworn she caught sight of––_No. _It couldn't be.

"_No!" _she choked, feeling adrenaline spike in her veins. He was walking into the takeout and stood in the queue, many places behind her, but she could have sworn he looked right at her. _Him. _It was him. Was it Him?

She felt her throat beginning to close, as she began to panic. What if he had found her? The S.A.F.E gala speech had gotten around, even made the news in some places. What if he had been let out? What if he was looking for the girl that put him away? She clenched her eyes shut, trying to block images that began to filter across her vision. It was getting dark out, and if the take-out didn't hurry, she'd be going home in the dark, _alone. _

_ "No, no," _she flapped, desperately trying to fumble for her mobile in her bag while trying to remain calm in front of all the people. Suddenly, He walked out of the line, nearing her, and she felt herself suppressing the need to scream. No, no, no...

Suddenly, everything began fading before Gabriella could even press the 'Call' button.

❝~x~❞

"Bolton! Bolton!" came cries from Troy's colleague, Eric. He was pounding toward him through the hospital halls. "Troy!"

Troy barely looked up at him. "Sorry, man. I can't stop. I need to get home. Gabriella's getting take-out––"

"She's in the ER."

And just like that, Troy knew how it felt to, as they say, 'have the world feel as though it was crumbling around him.'

"W-w––" Troy began in the direction of the emergency room, frantic. "What––how––" His eyes were wide and darting around as he rushed, his chest feeling like it may implode. "The baby," he suddenly choked breathlessly, feeling himself almost sway on his feet. "No, Eric, the baby––"

"Dude, _calm._" Eric clasped his shoulder as they moved into the ER together. "Someone brought her in. She had an panic episode downtown in that italian place."

"And I wasn't there––" Troy breathed, frantically looking around.

"Dude," he snapped, getting him out of his self-blame reverie. "Down the hall. ICU."

_ICU... _Troy's mind was frazzled. _Intensive Care. No. _

In what felt like a millennium, Troy found his way to Gabriella's side. She was crying as the medics struggled to calm her.

"Gabriella, baby," he gasped, rushing to her side and taking against his chest. "Are you––The baby––"

"I'm sorry, Troy. I thought it was Him." She was sobbing and, for a moment, Troy had to think who she was talking about. "I thought it was Him, but...it...wasn't."

Troy took her wrist in his hand as he kissed her head and whispered words of reassurance, telling her to breathe. He was just about to ask about the baby when he felt the tell-tale death grip of his wife's hands, which were around both of his.

"_Ahhh, ow," _Gabriella groaned somewhat deliriously, pressing her hands frantically to either side of her bump, breathing in short, hard pants. _Contractions. _He gulped, conversing with his ER colleagues about what their next move was. Labour. His wife was in labour_. _

_ "Shh, baby," _he cooed, trying to sound calm. "Breathe some of this," he prompted, handing her the pain relief inhaler, though he thought grimly, it would only be strong enough to take the edge off.

"Ohhh," she groaned again, biting her lip to try to minimise how it looked, gripping his hand with tears in her eyes as the contraction continued.

"Breathe, baby, breathe, just like we practiced. In and out."

At less than two centimetres dilated, Troy held Gabriella as they moved her to the maternity ward. He had a feeling this was going to be a _long_ night.

❝~x~❞

"I can't do this anymore, Troy. I c-can't," Gabriella sobbed, delirious with pain and medication as another contraction ripped through her, barely any time after the previous. She had been in labour almost sixteen hours, and Troy felt as though he had been through the wringer a thousand times. Watching Gabriella cry out in agony for hour, after hour, after _hour _had him at his wits end. Watching Gabriella fall over her own feet and hit the floor when she hadn't even been pregnant had always made his heart thunder in panic. Now, seeing her in what has been said to be the most pain a woman could ever experience and not being about to do _anything _to help her...it made him feel like his medical degree was the biggest waste of time. He was meant to be a _doctor. _What _use _was he is he couldn't even stop his wife's searing pain?

"Yes you can, baby. You're my strong, beautiful, Gabriella." His words escaped through his false, plastered smile. "You can do anything, remember? Anything. Just think, sweetheart, the baby that we're going to get to meet once it's over. A beautiful little baby. Focus on that._"_

Gabriella nodded, trying to believe him, her hair drenched her own sweat, stuck to her forehead. Her face was red and flushed from tensing through the pain, her hands, bare of her wedding and engagement rings, were sore from the sheer tightness level at which they gripped his. The contraction subsided, and Gabriella sagged, tears falling unchecked down her face.

"How...much longer?" she enquired breathlessly, miserably, against his awaiting shoulder as he leaning her forward to massage her knotted, aching back and hips.

"You're at nine centimetres, baby," he repeated what the midwife had told him, though he had only told her the same thing only minutes ago. "Not long now."

She whimpered in surrender, feeling all fight leave her as she sobbed, with no reservations, against him. Troy bit his lip to refrain from crying right along with her. They were both exhausted and the pain was taking its toll on both their mental states.

"Where's my baby?" she whimpered tearfully, feeling Troy smooth his hands over her bump soothingly. "I just want my baby."

Troy closed his eyes momentarily, pained, as his chin leant on her head. "I know you do," he whispered in return, swallowing becoming almost impossible due to the amount of unshed tears in his throat. "Not long now, sweetheart."

_Please, God, _he prayed internally. _Please, don't let it be long now. _

❝~x~❞

"Come on, Gabriella. That's it," a sweaty, exhausted but wired Troy encouraged of his wife, her legs spread wide, knees up near her ears, as his arm under one of her legs, gripping the underside of her thigh. She had a modesty sheet over her spread knees, though it did little to conceal her, considering there were also two more women in the room, intently looking into his wife's most intimate area as all concentrated on delivering the baby. Beside him, Gabriella let out a loud growling, straining sound through her teeth in agony. "Just keep pushing, honey. You can do it."

"It _hurts_, Troy, it hurts," she whimpered in a tiny voice, repeatedly. "Make it stop, please."

"Five more seconds, Gabriella," came the smocked doctor's voice from below her.

He felt his heart breaking in his chest. "Come on, baby. Breathe in some more of this for a minute," he murmured, passing her the 'happy' gas pipe again, hoping it would take the edge off.

"Okay, Gabriella. We're going to try pushing again with the next contraction, alright? Thirty seconds."

The doctor smiled sympathetically from in between her legs, only taking her eyes away from Gabriella's vaginal area brief, keeping her eyes on the partially crowned baby. Gabriella huffed at the chance to get her breath back for a moment or two, taking the oppotunity to look up at her husband. His hair was in all directions and there was the sheen of swear across his upper lip. His blue eyes were bright in comparison to his grey t-shirt, and she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling as though she could feel for years.

"Stay awake, baby," Troy cooed.

"I'm so tired. I need to sleep," she whimpered deliriously, her hand sleepily stroking down his cheek as he lowered his face to her level. "Please, Troy." She swallowed. "You're so strong. Always so strong. Can't you do it for me?"

Troy let out a tiny chuckle despite the tension in his body, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I just I could, baby. I'd be your seahorse and take it all on for you, you know I would." He rubbed his forehead. "Seeing you like this; it's killing me."

"Sorry," she mumbled, sniffing. "Sorry. I swear I have heard it would be this hard."

"Shh. Don't be ridiculous, my darling. You're doing amazing."

Gabriella felt the tell-tale tightening deep inside, and suddenly a contraction hit, far, _far _worse than any before. She let out a wailing cry and a sob, feeling Troy help draw her knees back up towards her head to aid her delivery. Repeatedly he kissed her head, murmuring encouragement.

"That's it, Gabriella. We're going to really push now. Here we go."

Gabriella felt as though she was trying to push a mountain to make it move. All her energy was drained before she even began pushing, used up on simply _enduring _the pain, as it electrocuted and fried every nerve. That was what was most tiring; withstanding the agony.

She groaned and shouted loudly, throwing her head back against the pillow as her back arched, tears streaming unceremoniously down her face, all the way down her neck. She could barely see anything, but everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

"Gabriella, you're going to have to push harder. Come on, now. You can do it," came the doctor's voice, and Gabriella gasped for air.

"I can't, I can't––" she whined without hope, opening her eyes to try and plead with Troy to do something.

"Yes, you can," Troy assured strongly in her ear, swallowing his tears that she was too far gone to see. "Yes, you can baby. Come on now. One last push."

Gabriella caught one last deep breath before lifting her head, letting out an almighty roar of exertion, she barely heard the medical staff's calls of encouragement, simply concentrating on one thing; their baby.

The pain was simply like nothing else. Forget the rape, forget torture, forget it all. This nature occurrence of life was simply the most agonising experience possible. She was pretty sure in that moment that, based on a pain scale, she would take rape again any day of the week compared to the pain of this. It was all nothing compared to _this. _

The pushing continued, and she wondered if she had been in this spot for years. More growls and screams exerted her body against her control, and she watched as Troy stepped away from her long enough to take a look down in between her legs.

_ "_The baby's crowning," came the doctor's voice, and knowing this meant the end was in sight, Gabriella's entire body seemed to rush for the finish line.

"Oh, wow," came Troy's voice in an unlevel, emotional croak as he looked down at the sight, his baby's head definitely visible as Gabriella's body bowed and contracted to attempt desperately to deliver him. He felt all breath leave him, the only thing anchoring him to the ground being the feeling of her soft, sweaty hand grasping at his, her nails digging into him. He didn't care. It was the least he could do. "Shit––woah––Gabriella––how are you doing this?" he breathed in wonder.

She cried out again, face red as a beetroot and crumpled in pain. Sweat glistened on her skin as their baby finally began to emerge. Troy didn't even try to hold in his tears now.

"Oh, Gabriella, oh, the baby's coming," Troy croaked excitedly, bouncing up and down giddily on his feet.

"What––I want to see," she whimpered in a high-pitched voice. "What do you see?"

"Oh," Troy gasped, still gripping Gabriella's hand. "A head, shoulders," he felt himself getting hysterical. "Oh, arms, _oh." _His gaze snapped to Gabriella, his chin betraying him, beginning to tremble with tears. "Oh, Gabi––the-the little fingers."

Gabriella groaned and sobbed simultaneously, causing Troy to kiss her tenderly on the head.

W-what els-se?!" she cried, still attempting to push.

When Gabriella gave her final push, she let out a mournful cry of relief, feeling the child finally slip from her body. She looked up at Troy, noting his silence. Even through her tears, she could easily see his blood-shot cyan eyes continuously filling with tears that then fell one after the other down his cheeks.

"What?" she croaked, feeling panic set through her veins. _"What?"_

Troy let out a shaky sob, clasping his hand over his mouth. He looked up at his lovely wife and felt like his heart was going to burst.

"It's a girl." Gabriella let out a whimper of a sob in response to the revolation. "A baby girl."

A soft cry of their baby filled the air, meaning _all _three Bolton's were now in tears.

"Congratulations, Troy, Gabriella," came the doctor's voice. "You have a baby girl."

Gabriella strained to see her; her pink, red flesh, bare and covered in blood and fluid and gunk. Her tears clouded her vision as she freely sobbed.

"Daddy Bolton, would you like to cut the umbilical cord?"

Troy, barely comprehending anything other than the sight of his baby, nodded after a moment. He took the tiny utensils, cutting their baby separate from Gabriella's body. He was breathing heavily, trying to calm his emotion.

"Troy, she's s-s-o t-tiny." Gabriella whimpered, just before the medics took her away across the room to be cleaned and weighed. "W-w-wait––what––where did she go?"

Troy chuckled at his frazzled, anxious wife, leaning down to kiss her hair. They're just cleaning her up, baby." He took a deep breath. "Oh, Gabriella. You are exquisite." She gazed, dazed, up at him, looking thoroughly exhausted.

"I am?" She wanted to laugh. "I have never felt more ugly than right now."

Troy chuckled cathartically, feeling euphoric. "Never, my darling. Never."

Not soon enough, the doctor carried their baby toward them, and Troy felt his entire body go numb. She was so small...so delicate. So _perfect_.

Gabriella shakily took their newborn into her folded arms, feeling Troy curl his strong arm around her, perching on the bed beside her, looking over her shoulder at their creation.

"We made her?" Gabriella whispered, tearfully. "How––? She's so perfect."

"She has your beauty," he whispered without humour.

Their baby grizzled, quietly, nuzzling into Gabriella's breast, closing her eyes. Troy sighed, feeling lighter than air, tightening his arm protectively around the two of them.

"Hello, baby," Gabriella cooed, tearfully, running a finger down her tiny face. "I know you. I'm your Mummy. Not your '_mommy.' _You're _'mummy,'" _she joked at her American spouse's expense. She felt his deep chuckle rumble from his chest against her shoulder.

"Do we have a name, yet?" the doctor asked with a smile. Gabriella looked up at Troy, knowing what they had agreed on. He nodded tearfully.

"Araelia," he smiled, repeated Gabriella's grandmother's name.

"Beautiful choice. I'll put that on the forms."

Troy looked down at their baby, her tiny button nose, minuet fingers and nails and toes and deep blue eyes. All caucasian babies were born with blue eyes, and, considering the dark, fine covering of hair on her head, Troy would put money on the fact that they would transform to become deep _brown _eyes like her mother. He had a little girl; for life, and a beautiful, strong wife... He was so lucky.

"I love you, Mrs Bolton," he sobbed gently against her head, kissing her hair and then leaning down to kiss the velvet skin of their daughters forehead. "Thank you, thank you."

"No, thank _you," _Gabriella whispered back, leaning up to kiss his lips tenderly. "Would you like to hold her, daddy?"

Troy swallowed desperately, nodded silently as he perched on her bed, suddenly nervous. He felt so clumsy and burly and disjointed all of a sudden, like this tiny piece of perfection what break the minute he held her. Nervously sand slowly, Gabriella shifted their child into his arms, and after a moment, Araelia settled against him, her tiny soft hair nuzzling into his chest, protected by his strong arms. She sighed, her tiny chest rising and falling peacefully, trusting him, a man she had never met, and falling back to sleep against him. Troy was so overwhelmed, he had no words left.

He noted Gabriella had already rested her head against him, she tried to stay awake to watch him with their baby, but she kept dipping out. She was so tired. She just wanted to _sleep_.

"Mrs Bolton, can you open your eyes?" came the voice of her doctor. She attempted to reply, but post-labour pain and aching sensations seared through her and all she could manage was a flutter of her eyelids. The lights were so bright. She was too exhausted to think anymore, and as hard as she fought it, she couldn't become alert, and she felt herself slipping, lost, in the abyss, knowing her baby was safe in her husband's arms.

❝~x~❞

"Hey, there Raeli, baby," Troy cooed in a whisper, taking his daughter into his arms from her crib. Her dark blue eyes watched him intently, as she fussed slightly to indicate her hunger. She had on an adorable all-in-one with ducks on, her little toes wriggling against him. His spread his large hand over her firm, round tummy, tickling slightly. It was three in the morning, and Troy's duty was get up to retrieve Araelia so that Gabriella could breastfeed her. In the dim light of the early morning, Troy softly cooed to his daughter as he climbed back into their bed to a beautifully sleep-ridden Gabriella. She smiled lazily at him in gratitude, taking their daughter gently into her arms. She had been sleeping nude, which gave easy access for feeding times. Troy watched fascinated as their baby, who was growing up so much already, latched her little mouth around his wife's pink nipple, suckling hungrily, her little baby fist resting against the breast. Gabriella let her head rest against the headboard, her eyes closing as she sighed, and he could tell she was experiencing the typical euphoria that was brought on by breast-feeding, there to help increase the bond between mother and child.

"Feel good, baby?" he joked, knowing it did, kissing her shoulder gently.

"Uh huh," she breathed, leaning over to plant a tiny kiss on his shoulder in return.

"My girls," Troy whispered, his eyes glowing with the love he had for them, showering both his wife's face and the velvety soles of his baby's feet with tiny kisses.

"Our man," Gabriella grinned back, kissing his forehead as he went to look up at her. "We love you, Troy."

"Stop it. I'll cry again."

Gabriella giggled. "I'm the hormonal one here, you can't use that excuse."

They both laid against each other, breathing in the still air of their dim bedroom, and Gabriella felt like she was surrounded with nothing but love.

"What time are your parents coming over, tomorrow?"

"Ten."

"And then..."

"They've said they'll take care of Monster here," he teased, tickling his daughter's foot, who ignored him, too busy focussing on her meal. "So _we _can have some _us _time."

Gabriella's eyes narrowed seductively, leaning to give him a steamy kiss, realising in that moment how different, yet the same, they were compared to the day they met. God, she was lucky. "Can't wait."

❝~x~❞

_SO THAT'S THAT. LY GUYS. THANKS FOR REVIEWING. :)_


End file.
